


Clinched

by Redfox_Raine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst and Fluff and Smut, BAMF Hunk (Voltron), BAMF Keith (Voltron), BAMF Lance (Voltron), BAMF Pidge | Katie Holt, BAMF Shiro (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bottom Lance (Voltron), Chef Hunk (Voltron), Coach Shiro, Doctor Coran, Duh it's MMA, Eventual Smut, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gay Keith (Voltron), Honestly everyone is BAMF, M/M, MMA Fighter Keith, MMA Fighter Lance, MMA fighting, Massage Therapist Lance, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Torture, Receptionist Pidge, Top Keith (Voltron), Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2020-01-20 16:06:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 44,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18528460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redfox_Raine/pseuds/Redfox_Raine
Summary: Being a well renowned masseur at Altea Spa and Sports Treatment had its perks, but when the building goes under renovations, all the employees are scattered and forced to work at different establishments while the building is repaired. Unfortunately for Lance, Allura sends him to work at Voltron Gym for an old friend. Now he's their personal massage therapist, and with a damaging past in MMA Fighting, will he be able to work with each member, especially the fighter who has caught his eye?





	1. Even Man Out

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I'm sorry about the disappearance. I've had the meanest writer's block as well as some difficult times. To get out of my slump, I started reading again and found this amazing romance novel! It's about an MMA Fighter and a young woman receptionist. There are three books and they have some pretty steamy scenes...it's a great read. It's called "Hold Trilogy" by Jayne Blue, and I it inspired me to write a MMA au. I used some scenes from the romance novel as a template, but I guarantee that nothing will be exactly the same...especially the ending. DISCLAIMER: I do not own Voltron, Dreamworks, or the Hold Trilogy romance novel. Have fun!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance starts his job at a new place.

Quitting wasn’t ideal, but it was definitely an option. Especially if he went from a building that had lovely ladies and lavender plants in their bathrooms, to a sweaty, antiseptic smelling gym, filled with men grunting and fighting like animals. The contrast between the two was so great, that the sudden wave of heat radiating from the moving bodies was giving Lance a headache worse than a migraine. The brick walls were not making things better, with its faded mismatched red colors. The only things that Lance had deemed acceptable were the huge banners hanging from the ceiling along the length of one wall.

There were specifically five banners, each with a different picture of a muscled man. The center most banner was black with the silhouette of a man facing away from the camera who had a piercing glare creeping over a broad shoulder. It screamed pure power and intimidation with a control that was to be respected. To the left of the black banner was a deep scarlet one with another muscular man wearing a hooded sweater to create a mysterious yet beautiful shadow over his face. It had a ferocious instinctual vibe compared to the deep blue shade of the leftmost banner. The indigo shades and the scarlet red were completely opposite: the chiseled body of a fighter in the blue banner was completely exposed and looking towards the heavens, free of any ties. These two banners to the left of the main black banner, were just as amazing as the ones on the right.

Just like the red and blue cloths hanging on the wall, there were two more hanging to the right. A rich emerald color mixed in with shades of juniper was the first on the right, and it didn’t display a man, but a woman. She was beautifully built with her hands resting on her hips and her hair cascading down one shoulder from a loose braid. It tickled Lance’s curiosity as to why it was the only female among the male dominated banners, but perhaps that was its purpose: it was a dare among a male dominated sport, challenging any who would stand in her way. The last banner was equally beautiful and completed the set of five. It was yellow and rich like medallion with the largest body among the five banners. The mysterious man’s arms were positioned near his chin with fists frozen in a fighting stance. Everything about it was large and filled with strength as if he could support anything; a true Atlas among his opponents. Lance wondered if the fighters displayed in each banner came to this gym to workout.

After admiring the banners for a while longer, Lance turned his attention to the rest of the gym. He counted two oddly shaped boxing rings that had cages and one without, a section that was meant only for weights, and numerous bags scattered around the area. There were ropes, tires, mats, and each one was kept organized by the fighters or few staff members. The presence of men fighting each other in rings and working out was intimidating, making Lance unsure of where he should start. It was especially hard since the men were working out in skin-tight boardshorts that only reached down to mid-thigh. It...was...distracting...and he didn’t know where to look.

“Hey you! Scrawny guy!”

Lance squeaked and glanced around the area until his eyes landed on the reception desk near the entrance. There was a woman waving at him who looked to be at least a few years younger than him. She had light brown messy hair that stopped at the nape of her neck, and her fashion was coupled with large round eyeglasses that hid chocolate brown eyes. Unsure at first, Lance pointed to himself while looking at the young woman. He confirmed that the lady was calling him when she nodded her head and motioned for him to come closer. Lance approached with his arms wrapped securely around his messenger bag. It was filled with his tools of trade, as well as other essentials he thought he needed to survive a gym.

The young woman spoke up, “Are you here to work out? If so, would you like a membership here at the Voltron Gym?”

Lance gawked and quickly shook his head, “No, no, I’m so sorry! My boss sent me here to meet someone named Takashi Shirogane…”

The woman scrunched her nose making her glasses rise, “What’s your name? And who’s your boss?”

“The name’s Lance, and my boss’ name is Allura. She’s the owner of Altea Spa and Sports Treat—”

The receptionist slapped her hands on the table and yelled, “You’re the famous masseur Allura sent us?!” Lance visibly jolted, and began to wave his hands wildly as the woman began to spout things, “Allura told us your hands are like magic! Any fighter or sports player who’s seen you does better the next day!” The woman before him was shaking with pure excitement.

Lance was sweating hard when he noticed that some heads were turning towards them, “Please, no! Don’t believe what she says, she exaggerates too much. I’m just here because…”

But it was too late. A broad man was walking towards them and Lance felt himself shrink back into his shoulders, clutching tightly onto the strap of his bag. Maybe he could throw the acupuncture needles in his case as a distraction, then make a break for the door. No, those were too expensive to come by; the wooden rollers were a better option. The man approaching them looked friendly, but was intimidating with the sheer amount of muscle hiding beneath his clothes. The black sweater was tight against his broad chest and shoulders. Lance noticed that one of his hands was grey and stiff; he knew right away that it was a prosthetic, and it was a high-end technology type too. Sitting upon the man’s buzzed undercut was a white fringe and a pink scar that slashed across the bridge of his nose. Lance’s body stiffened and tensed when he realized that Takashi Shirogane, owner of Voltron Gym, was walking towards them.

When the owner met them, he knocked his knuckles against the desk and cackled, “I see that you’ve met our receptionist, Katie Holt.” After getting smacked in the arm by the woman, the owner laughed and added, “She likes to go by Pidge Gunderson. We both have been talking with Allura about your help here, and a few stories got thrown in. I must say that they were quite impressive.”

Lance rubbed his neck and kept his eyes down, “Right, so I suppose you know who I am already. Did Allura explain the contract I signed?”

The man nodded his head then rubbed his chin, “Yes. You’ll be working here as the massage therapist until the Altea building is done renovating. Altea Spa and Sport Treatment will still be giving you pay, and any sessions here will count towards your paycheck.” The man crossed his arms and added, “But if any of the guys ask for a session that’s outside of gym hours, then they’ll have to pay out of pocket and it’s up to you to set up a meeting.”

When Lance nodded, the owner held out his hand as a greeting, “Welcome to Voltron Gym. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Lance. My name is Takashi Shirogane.”

Lance took the owner’s hand and shook, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Shirogane.”

The older man let out a deep bellied laugh and answered, “Please, just ‘Shiro’ is fine. ‘Mr. Shirogane’ makes me feel too formal.”

Between the two men, Pidge, the receptionist, snickered, “And it’s not helping you’re aging white hair…”

Shiro sighed and looked at Pidge, “You are just one of many children who caused my hair to turn white with worry.” The young woman stuck her tongue out before returning to her desk work.

The owner explained the schedule to Lance as they walked around the gym, passing by curious eyes and indifferent ones alike. The doors would open at five in the morning for the fighters, but he was allowed to come in at eight like Pidge, since that was when most work would get done. Shiro mentioned that they had a local doctor, by the name of Coran, that worked in a clinic a few blocks away just in case of any injuries. After all, a doctor gave a diagnosis and a massage therapist gave the treatment according to the diagnosis. Still, Lance was asked if he knew first aid and he responded with a firm “yes”. The young man continued to follow the owner around the gym until they reached a hallway that led to several back rooms. Shiro led them to the first door on the right and opened it.

Inside the room was plain, but there was a crisp new massage table standing at the center. There was a marble sink with the usual set up: hand soap, tissues, a kit with first aid supplies, and a small stack of towels. It seemed that the décor would need some improvement. There was only a small chair in the corner next to the sink. Massage rooms were meant to promote relaxation and a calm atmosphere for a client; this room did not have that air...yet. Lance pulled his smartphone from his pocket and began to make a list of things he would need. The fighters obviously didn’t know what a massage therapist room needed, especially for sports. The list was steadily growing longer: music for a soothing session—although the fighters might have personal music for that, scented candles or incense that didn’t upset any potential allergies, pillows and a few more towels of different sizes, and he would have to change the room’s lighting.

“I can make a list of products for Allura to order and send over, but I do want the lighting in this room changed,” Lance pointed to the flat ceiling light that melded into the polyester panels, “It can’t have such a bright white light, it needs to be something warmer.”

Shiro had his head tilted up at the light, “Okay, I can get one of my guys to change it. Is there anything else that you might need?”

Lance began tapping through his phone, “I want a list of allergies any of your fighters might have. This is mostly for scents and product use, but I highly doubt I’ll use anything else other than oil and a couple of needles…”

Shiro hummed with surprised, “You can do acupuncture?”

The young man turned and stared straight into the owner’s eyes, “I can do a lot of things, although I don’t recommend acupressure for sports. You’d be surprised.”

“Hmm…” Shiro rubbed his chin while looking at Lance, “I’ve noticed this before while we were walking: your right ear looks a little different from your left. It’s very subtle, but did you have a cauliflower ear at some point?” It was somewhat of a tangent from their conversation.

Lance shrugged his shoulders then exited the room, “Let’s keep that a mystery.” He didn’t answer Shiro’s question, but he was on point: a cauliflower ear was the result of a punched ear.

Shiro shook his head jokingly, “I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see. Anyways, you can leave your bag here. I want to introduce you to the others in the ring.”

The masseur nodded and tossed his bag onto a small chair in the corner of the room, taking his phone with him just in case he remembered anything else for his list. He followed Shiro back out to the gym area where Lance spotted two men fighting in a hexagonal caged ring. The older man had seen how Lance’s eyes flickered over, so Shiro brought him over to observe. Lance wasn’t too adept with ringside terms—it’s been awhile—but the two men sparring were incredible. Muscles rippled and flexed with every punch and kick that flew, and they continuously moved around each other like a rigid dance upon burning coal. Their huffing and grunts were heavy and filled with desperation to win. Lance found himself walking around the caged ring to follow the fight. Behind him, the young man could hear Shiro shouting commands and dropping advice like gold.

“I know you can do better than that, Keith! Pick up your left arm!” Shiro yelled, “Regris follow through with your attacks! Full force!”

Regris landed a punch on the man; Keith’s left side close to his ear. If Lance squinted, he could see that the same ear had an odd shape to it: potential remnants of a past cauliflower ear. This man had taken a punch before. The fighter’s hair had been pulled back in a half tie to reveal that both ears had the same odd shape. Lance watched as the fighter called Keith lowered his left side by only an inch, and his opponent charged. The masseur would never get over the small drop in his chest when he watched this Keith get grabbed around the waist and slammed against the mat with a loud bang. Lance wanted to believe that the fight was done, but he knew firsthand how stubborn fighters were when it came to winning.

The mat was suddenly made of fire and in a blink of an eye, Keith twisted and pulled his body up. A flurry of limbs obscured Lance’s view, but the man had gotten his opponent in a headlock between his arms and was squeezing the other’s body between his thighs. Keith’s eyes looked up from annihilating his opponent and straight into Lance’s. The man’s jaw line was sharp and coupled with a strong nose. No stubble graced him except for a large scar than ran up from under his right jaw and stopping in the middle of his cheek. There was a thin strand of hair that escaped the hair tie and was now plastered against the man’s forehead. That beastly gaze though, was filled with a feral instinct, and he was mere inches from where Lance stood, eyes burning his very soul.

“Who are you?” The words came out as a sneer and at the same time Keith’s expression seemed relaxed and floating. But before Lance could answer, he received a confident smile and had the fighter’s attention...at least his head was facing him. He was still squeezing the life out of Regris.

Lance’s own sweat from the heated room seemed to get worse and he swallowed before licking his lips. They were suddenly dry. Keith’s gaze traveled up and down Lance’s figure as if he were sizing up another opponent. He was so occupied with looking that he barely heard Shiro screaming at him, telling Keith that Regris was tapping out.

“Looks like you won, Keith.” Lance blurted out.

“Sure, but I still don’t have your name.” Keith replied.

There was something inside Lance that was telling him to step away and deal with this matter at a different time, but his brain wasn’t in control at the moment. Something was telling him to stand his ground, a gut feeling that said to hold his stare and stay. Don’t back down, don’t blink, don’t show fear, stare straight into this beastly man’s eyes and hold fast.

“Keith! He’s tapping out, you idiot!” Shiro walked into the ring ready to pry the two men apart. Instead, the fighter broke his trance and finally looked towards Shiro, before looking down at his opponent.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Keith immediately let go of the man and stood up to help the gasping man.

Shiro growled and snapped his fingers at both men, “Regris, Keith, your both done for the day. Go and shower so you can meet our new guest.”

Two pairs of eyes snapped towards Lance, and he recoiled. His first thought was to hide behind something, but when there was no object in sight, he averted his eyes and clasped his hands behind his back. His need to challenge their gaze left him like the wind. He hoped that his actions didn’t seem too weird and nervous. The two men exited the ring and passed by Lance. The fighter with the scar was still staring at Lance, even though his opponent, Regris, was happily talking away as they walked to the showers.

“I’m sorry about that.” Shiro’s voice popped up next to him and startled him, “I hope that didn’t scare you too bad. Keith usually listens better than that.”

Lance waved his hands, “It’s quite alright. I was just surprised, is all. I’ve had my fair share of sparring.”

“Is that so?” Shiro beamed with his hands on his hips, “I knew you did some fighting before this! Mind if I ask...uh, how…” Shiro was gesturing towards Lance.

The story behind Lance becoming a massage therapist wasn’t a secret; he didn’t mind sharing the story. But if felt like a pesky fly that was constantly buzzing around him, ducking away from his hands and humming near his ear. Other times, it felt like a pen mark on an official form: it can be ignored but the sight of it only reminded him that the paper was tainted and may not be accepted at certain places. Lance decided to give Shiro the short version. If the owner decided that he wanted more of a story, he would ask and Lance would tell.

Lance rubbed his arm as he explained, “I got into an accident several years ago that prevented me from continuing. I could have gone to a doctor and a therapist, but then again I wasn’t too serious about the sport…” Lance looked towards the cage that had just been used, “The scars...are very visible...and as much as I miss the ring, I’m a bit too self-conscious about it.” Lance looked back at Shiro and chuckled, “Besides, I haven’t touched any workout equipment in a long time. All my muscles have become rusty and useless.”

“I’m sorry if I was prying too much—”

“No, I don’t mind telling that story!” Lance held his hands up as if he were about to comfort Shiro. He stopped short and played with his hands, “It’s not exactly a secret. It was all over the newspapers. I just dropped off the radar for a bit before returning.” Shit, why did he say that?! Now Shiro might go snooping on some information.

“Still, I believe I know what you were feeling.” Shiro began to roll up his sleeve and bared his right arm to Lance. The prosthetic was made from aluminum with black rubber surrounding the missing joints in the fingers, wrist, and elbow. Shiro held his arm out for Lance to examine, “I used to do some fighting myself and won a few championships.” He pointed to the black banner that Lance was admiring a while ago, “That’s a picture of me before I lost my arm in a car accident. I was determined and received this prosthetic, but even after I climbed back up to my original strength, the officials wouldn’t let me compete. Said I was still labeled as a ‘disable’ and that my new arm was technically a ‘tool’.”

Lance gathered the other man’s prosthetic in his hands, gently twisting it back and forth, “Weren’t you mad? Weren’t you frustrated about not being allowed into the sport again? I wasn’t too enthusiastic, but you—you won championships, and had a career.” The masseur let go of Shiro’s arm when he began to roll the sleeve down.

“Of course, I was frustrated, but at the same time I understood. So…” Shiro spread his arms wide gesturing to the entirety of the gym, “I bought this place and started the Voltron Gym! I may not have a chance anymore, but I could pass on my knowledge to anyone willing to listen.”

Lance felt his chest squeeze with a familiar feeling, “Then I suppose our reasons are not too different.” Shiro seemed puzzled before Lance added, “I wanted someone to succeed where I failed. Learning and becoming a massage therapist was just my way of doing things.”

There was a silent moment between the two men. It was acknowledgement and a sign that they accepted their current positions. They had both come to terms with their predicament and moved on, and it was sobering, pleasant even, to find another person in the world who had experienced something similar. Shiro clapped Lance on the shoulder and squeezed in both comfort and reassurance before he escorted him around the rest of the gym. The rest of the afternoon passed with Shiro introducing Lance to the other members who were currently present. There were a lot of names and faces, but there were very few that he remembered. Lance made a mental note to ask for some more information from Pidge the next day. When introductions were finished, Shiro left Lance alone to explore the gym. Only about twenty minutes passed before he was pulled aside by the receptionist.

The young woman, Pidge, asked Lance if he had time to help her since he was also going to be part of the gym staff. When he asked what she wanted him to do, she began to explain the situation that had come up. Cooperate had new laptops for both the reception desk and back rooms, but they were displaced during delivery and never left the main building. Pidge wanted Lance to pack up the old computers and store them in the packing boxes behind her desk, while Pidge took her car down to the next city to pick up the new devices.

“As an apology for the late delivery, the company added in two new touch pads: you can have one of them for your therapy business or whatever. Maybe some fun games to kill time? I doubt our guys are dumb enough to pull a muscle.” Pidge explained as he put on her coat, “You don’t have to finish, but it would take one thing off my list.” She grabbed her miniature backpack and slung it over both shoulders.

“Sure thing, Pidge. I don’t mind helping.” Lance answered.

The young man was surprised to receive a hug in return, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Pidge sprinted from her station with her coat fluttering behind her and her tiny backpack bouncing up and down. She turned and yelled from the entrance, “I owe you some lunch! My treat at the best restaurant in town!” Then she was gone, just like that.

The reception desk was empty and the constant sound of bags being punched and kicked echoed inside the gym. Lance smiled at the thought of the young woman running out the front door with her tiny backpack bouncing against her back. She was tough, but there was also a cuteness about her that reminded Lance of his younger sisters running through an amusement park. So far he liked all the people he’s met. With a happy hum grazing his lips, he started his task and walked to the back rooms. The masseur made sure to knock before opening each door, and if there was someone inside, he politely asked if there were any computers. If there was a computer, he explained what was happening and then began to gather the wires and monitors. They weren’t large or bulky, but they were definitely of an older model. The monitors were white and had a flat screen with the computer itself used as a stand. He remembered using these in high school and occasionally in the printer room at his university. At some point, he ran into Shiro again. The owner helped him out with his own computer in the office and told Lance that there should be three more.

As Lance was carrying Shiro’s computer out of the office, he ran into a familiar face. Black hair was no longer in a half tie, but hiding underneath a white towel fresh from a shower. Instead of the tight boardshorts, there were sweatpants and a pullover hoodie that had been worn around the edges. This was the fighter asking for Lance’s name. Was it Keith? If Lance didn’t know any better, the fighter might have just froze on the spot when they made eye contact...his lips were parted like he was about to say something. At least this man wasn’t too intimidating with a towel on his head.

“Are you okay?” Lance tilted his head so he could look under the towel, “You’re skin looks a bit red. It’s not good if you take scalding showers.” He adjusted the computer slipping in his hands.

“Ah...Do...do you need help with those?” Keith was pointing at the computer in his hands.

Lance shook his head, “I’ve got this, but could you grab the monitor in Shiro’s office and any other wires for me?”

Keith slipped into Shiro’s office, but not without placing his hand on Lance’s lower back to gently shuffle him out of the doorway. God damn, were his hands really that large? Or maybe Lance really lost all that body mass years ago? The young man was pried from his thoughts when he heard angry whispering from inside the office. He only caught the tail end of Shiro’s words.

“Just ask, Keith. He wouldn’t be bothered. I mean, that’s what Allura told me.”

There was a beat before the sound of tapping and clicking appeared. From the office, Keith appeared with the monitor safely in his hands and wires wrapped around both arms. Lance gave a small thanks, and then began leading the way towards Pidge’s desk. When they arrived, Lance set the computer into one of the many boxes, then moved out of the way for Keith to do the same. There were two left and it was already dark outside. Did time pass that quickly? Several of the gym members and fighters passed by, waving to both Keith and Lance. Even Regris passed by to introduce himself before leaving, as he didn’t get to the first time.

Lance turned to Keith after waving to the last fighter, “Do we need to lock up the gym before going?”

Keith cleared his throat, “No, Shiro and I do that. Since we’re roommates, we lock up and leave together.”

“Well then,” Lance looked around the room and found that the gym was deserted, “I suppose it’s just us and Shiro. Can you get the last computer while I pack up the one on Pidge’s desk?”

The fighter nodded and left for the back rooms once more. Meanwhile, Lance began tucking Pidge’s old computer away and wrapped up the wires so that everything would fit inside the box. When he was done, he finally took a survey of the empty gym. It was strangely quiet, the silence not suiting the mixed martial arts gym. The rings were empty, the equipment had been wiped down and stored away, and not a single bag was swinging from impact. The thought of smacking one of the bags around had crossed Lance’s mind once or twice, but he didn’t want to in the presence of the others. What if he missed or hurt himself? He’d feel embarrassed if he messed up, especially since he used to do a bit himself. But he was curious and wondered whether or not his muscles remembered some maneuvers.

Eyes darted around the room as Lance inched closer and closer to a nearby bag. When he reached the mat area, he removed his shoes and socks so he wouldn’t dirty the just cleaned area. He inched closer and found that it was a heavy bag about the same height as him. Lance never liked doing punches, but instead enjoyed the kicks. They were flashier and he always felt that he had more strength in his legs than he did his arms. Plus it involved rotating your foot and hips at the same time, something that most fighters had difficulty with. 

There was a logo at the very top of the bag, some sort of “V” shape emblem with extra flair at each end. Lance decided that he would aim for the logo, which meant he would be doing high kicks and maybe even a hook kick. MMA fighters rarely used kicks because of how open it left their body, but if the kick was quick and snapped back into place, it could be avoided. It was something Lance had learned to do fluidly. He lined himself up with the bag and positioned himself. There was silence before Lance took aim, pivoted his foot and hips, kicked as high as he could, then snapped his leg back into position. The impact echoed like a clap of thunder in the empty gym and the heavy bag swayed back and forth. A smile crept onto his face; he missed this feeling. So Lance started up again, chaining together kick after kick, starting low and then building back up to a high kick before finishing with a hooked shot, and a final round house kick. Each blow made a deafening thud that resonated through the gym that sounded like a heavy cement bag dropping. The familiar movements felt exhilarating. Apparently his training was never forgotten, and muscle memory had him falling back into a familiar fighting stance. But when he caught himself falling back into a fighting headspace, and snapped his posture straight as if he had never touched anything. He couldn’t go back to fighting, he was a massage therapist now.

Satisfied with leaving the heavy bag swaying like a pendulum, Lance closed his eyes and stretched his arms high as he turned around to retrieve his socks and shoes. But when he opened his eyes, Keith was there...watching him with his arms crossed and a predatory smile on his face. Fuck, he was watching him?!

Lance rushed to put his socks and shoes back on, “H-hey Keith! Did you find the last computer?” He was hopping in place as he slipped on his socks.

The man stalked towards him slowly with the grin still present, “Yeah, all packed away and ready.”

Lance finally slipped on his shoes, “Thanks! I should go grab my bag and leave now…” Lance pointed to the massage room and briskly walked away with his head down. Keith’s body was like a compass directed at Lance.

Shoes stomped heavily against the floor and Lance noticed too late that another pair was following him. The door flew open, Lance snatched his messenger bag up, then he turned around only to bump straight into Keith’s chest. The sudden intrusion startled him and he stumbled backwards into the massage table. Right on beat, Keith crowded Lance against the low table and caged him in with both hands braced against the soft cushion. This man was too close; Lance could practically smell the gym’s generic soap and shampoo on Keith’s body. The folds on his eyelid, those thick eyelashes, the fresh balm on his lips, they were too close!

“Shiro said you were our new massage therapist, but those kicks were precise...I bet they could knock a man unconscious.” Keith’s voice sounded dangerous and intrigued at the same time. It was confusing, “Are you working here now? What’s your name?”

Lance tried to lean further away from Keith, “I’m Lance, and I work here until my work building is done renovating.” If he leaned any further, he would fall flat on his back against the massage table. Suddenly, there was a hand near Lance’s face and he smacked it away quickly, “Keep your hands to yourself, Keith.”

Something playful flashed across the other man’s face, “How about this one?” Keith raised his other hand to try again but Lance quickly smacked that one away as well. They were evenly matched.

The atmosphere between them was thick and heady, but Lance wasn’t sure if it was just him or if Keith was the one creating it. What was this fighter up to? Lance couldn’t figure it out for the life of him, but whatever was happening was causing him to sweat even more, and he was pretty sure he could hear his heart beating against his chest. Depending on the person, one could say that the next thing that happened was lucky for Lance and unfortunate for Keith.

A familiar commanding voice interrupted them, “Lance, you have my absolute permission to kick him, or anyone here, where it really hurts if they make advances towards you...or even insults you.” Lance squeaked and Keith only looked over his shoulder, not moving from his position while Shiro continued to talk, “Of course, if you feel too guilty about it then I could do it myself.”

“I can handle that myself, thanks!” Lance yelped out, and then asked, “Um, why did you say ‘advances’?”

“Oh, uh…” Shiro raised an eyebrow teasingly, “Some of the fighters here swing for the other team. Plus, Allura may or may not have mentioned that you do as well.”

There was a short pause before Lance covered his face and groaned, “Oh my fucking god, Allura!”


	2. Hands on Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first client for a massage session: Keith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly thought that I wouldn't finish this chapter because of how much crap that was going on in my life. Don't be surprised if the usual post date is missed by a day or two. Anyways, thank you very much for the comments, views, and kudos! Have fun reading the second chapter!

There was a subtle difference between muscles meant to create a figure, and muscles that were built to fight. Muscles on a fit person were well-rounded, and shaped specifically to accentuate the most alluring areas of the human body. The muscles of a fighter, however, were slightly more defined, honed down to the very last fiber to create a killing machine. At one point in Lance’s career, his muscles were that of a gladiator.

Every other morning, Lance would run at least five miles at top speed, and worked to shred off every ounce of fat to perfect a lethal weapon. Now...now all he could do was run two miles at a leisurely pace, or only one mile at top speed before collapsing and gasping like he just surfaced from the ocean. It was pathetic, especially next to the fighters at the Voltron Gym. He wasn’t bothered by how far he had fallen, but he was concerned with what others would think of him. A well-oiled machine that suddenly turned rusty with a few damaged parts? No thanks. The possibility of witnessing those judgmental expressions made him shrink away from most of the fighters. Not only that, his accident had prevented him from rejoining the MMA sport, permanently scarring him for life and locking the closed door on a potential opportunity.

The scar was from what the doctors had exaggerated as “borderline third degree burns”. The wound wasn’t enough to penetrate down to his fatty tissue, but it was enough to damage the epidermis and the dermis. Basically, he couldn’t feel anything unless there was enough pressure. The sad part was that the old burn scar had taken up a good portion of his back: from his trapezius muscles between his shoulders to his waist, barely missing the faint Apollo Dimples that still graced his body. The ragged edges expanded outwards as if someone had splashed liquid fire on him...Lance knew the real story and it wasn’t just an “accident”.

Unfortunately, with such a large scar and damage to some nerves, he was unable to continue fighting. The officials had argued that he wouldn’t be able to feel any possible blows and that it was an unsightly thing for the audience. The crowd didn’t view the fight from the inside; it was from outside the ring, so their logic made sense. But the words still stung and although he never had plans of becoming a professional, it forced Lance to think of everyday things: he couldn’t be seen in public without a t-shirt. No gym showers, no pool parties, no beach outings, and he couldn’t wear any sleeveless tops that were revealing. His scars would peek out from beneath the low fabric. But the worst part was that Lance could no longer be...intimate. The scarred skin had become softer and lighter from years of applying cream and other such products, but he couldn’t feel the faintest touch of fingers and his back was no longer flawless and smooth.

Another unfortunate aspect was his sensitivity to temperature change. The biting cold was a welcoming feeling against his worn body, but the sudden blast of heat coming from Voltron Gym caused his body to slightly curl in from a surprised throb. After pulling open the heavy doors of the gym, Lance would quickly step in, and then shuffle to the side in order not to block the entrance. He would take a moment to himself to breathe, and adjusted himself to the atmosphere. Afterwards, everything returned to what he deemed as normal.

“Morning, Lance!” Pidge, the receptionist, was always the first person to greet Lance, “I hope you’re prepared for the best food in the city!”

Lance waved, “Good morning,” he walked up to the young woman sitting at her desk, “I trust that you picked the most amazing place, but…” he pointed to his usual bag, “I brought lunch just in case.”

Pidge plopped her chin into her palm, “Don’t worry, I’m not offended. The food might not be your taste, so it’s perfectly fine.” She smiled as she lifted her other hand, displaying a small lunch bag hooked on her finger, “I brought some myself.”

“Does that mean you don’t trust this place?” Lance snorted with a hand over his mouth.

The receptionist shook her head, “Oh, I trust them with anything edible, but I did say to make it a surprise.”

Lance and Pidge laughed, gaining a few heads to turn before resuming their activities. Voltron Gym had been busy the moment Lance stepped in at eight o’clock. The masseur worried whether or not he should arrive earlier, but the young woman reassured him that it was completely fine. It was Shiro who opened up the gym most times, while on rare occasions it was Keith. The information made Lance think before turning to Pidge.

“Have you always been the receptionist here?” Lance asked.

Pidge shook her head, “No. I was a full time student at the university, but then Shiro asked if I would be willing to work here. Apparently, Matt wasn’t the greatest at balancing three things at once…”

“Uh, who’s Matt?”

“Matthew Holt: he’s my brother.” Pidge pointed to one corner of the gym and Lance’s eyes followed, “That’s him over by the weights. He’s the one doing deadlifts.”

After scanning the weight area for a bit, Lance’s eyes landed on a man who had a similar appearance to the young receptionist. The light brown hair was shaggier and longer, but the hickory brown eyes were smoking with concentration that had several years over Pidge. Each deadlift was slow and precise. The man, Matt, kept a straight back and made sure that he was lifting with his legs. His cheeks were puffed up with the sudden release of air, then curving in to inhale. The small scar on his left cheek moved continuously with each breath of air, and it only served to make Pidge’s brother seem ridiculous. But that’s where the fun stopped. Matt may have not been wearing the signature black boardshorts, but he had black athletic pants with white drawstrings swaying with each lift. The white cotton shirt had been discarded a while ago to display well-toned muscles and a line of sweat trailing down between pectorals. Lance will admit that this Matt was handsomely graceful, but he wasn’t his type.

“Hey Matt, wave to Lance!” Pidge yelled. The brother set his weights down then gave a small salute towards Lance. Pidge continued her story when Matt picked up his weights again, “Between his schooling, his job, and doing this, it was a miracle he kept the files coded and organized. Shiro saw how tired and stressed he was, so he asked me. Now I’m the one keeping things organized and updated.” After finishing her explanation, Pidge stretched her hands above her head and hummed.

Lance adjusted his bag and crossed his arms, “Sounds like this place would fall apart without you.”

Pidge leaned back in her chair and nodded along, then said, “Got that right. Hopeless fools, all of them.” She clasped her hands behind her head and changed subjects, “Okay, we got a lunch appointment together. Anyone on the menu for today?” She wiggled her eyebrows, then gnashed her teeth out like she was biting meat.

Lance squeaked, “Don’t say it like that!” His hands were stretched out to try and stop Pidge from talking.

“You know what I mean.” Pidge chuckled before pulling out a flat device and handing it to Lance, “The free touch pad came in. You can use it to check your schedule and a few other things.”

The young man took the device from Pidge’s small hands and examined the recently opened electronic. The touch pad was completely white similar to the old computers Lance had packed up the night before. It was the size of a thin notebook, ideal for taking notes and handling anything that concerned his trade. At the top was a small black dot, most likely the camera, and the rest of it was encased in a flexible plastic to guard from scratches. There was even an extra thin film that protected the screen. Softly clicking down on the circular button brought up the date and time, along with a page filled with applications. Messaging, calendar, photos, camera, notes, all the usual apps plus a few games that Pidge might have downloaded as a recommendation. But the most important one was the Altea Spa and Sports Treatment app that was first on the second page.

Lance tapped on the square application with a line picture of a sauna which brought up a logo of his establishment and two choices: once for employees, and another for clients and customers. He ignored all the advertisements and deals, signing in with his identification number so he could check his schedule. There were about one hundred members that attended Voltron Gym. If each member were to use the massage services, then Lance would have to take on at least three clients everyday for one month to get through all one hundred members. Maybe even after work hours. The MMA fighters entering the Century Fight League took a higher priority, so his scheduled appointments would be a lot busier. There were at least fifteen participants if he remembered correctly.

“So, who’s the first victim?” Pidge’s question cut through his running thoughts.

“Oh, uh, right...let me just,” Lance scrolled through his scheduled and checked under today’s date. He choked on his spit when he saw the name, “Keith.”

In front of him, Pidge burst out and smacked her hand against the table repeatedly, “Oh shit, man! Good luck with that! I heard he cornered you in the massage room last night!”

Lance clutched the touch pad against his chest, “Who told you that?! Was it Shiro?”

Pidge adjusted her chair and scooted closer, “No, it was actually Keith. He told me when he swiped his card this morning. I’ve never seen him this interested in another guy for a long time.”

The masseur leaned forward and whispered, “What makes you think that he’s interested?”

“Because he’s looking right at you.” The receptionist was leaning forward and pointed her finger passed Lance.

At the far corner of the gym and opposite of the receptionist desk was a group of exercise machines. A very familiar face was occupying the chest fly machine, breathing heavily and making slow even pulls to really work those pectorals. This time, Lance was able to really see Keith’s body without him tumbling around the ring. He was wearing the uniform black shorts again with his thighs spread apart on the machine. Each pull against the machine caused his pectorals to flex, and both his biceps and triceps were kept tight in the most amazingly shaped arms. That black hair was fully tied up in a ponytail with a few strands escaping from an intense workout. Lance followed one of the strands down his face until he locked eyes with the fighter. He was once again struck by a powerful look and it made him quickly avert his concentrated gaze.

Lance tensed as he returned to his conversation with Pidge, “He’s looking at me—”

“I just said that.”

“But he’s looking at me like he wants to fight me!” Lance squeaked out hastily.

There was a pause and Pidge blinked, “You call that his ‘murdering glare’? You’ve obviously never seen him in a real fight.”

Lance groaned and pushed against his temples, “Of course, I haven’t seen him fight—I just got here.”

“Well you better learn the difference before you kill each other. Now go do your job!” Pidge fanned her hands at Lance to shoo him away. She adjusted herself in her swivel chair once more and began typing away on the new laptop, answering a ringing phone and tucking it between her shoulder and ear.

That’s right, Lance had a job. Quiet whines escaped his mouth as he turned away from the receptionist desk to walk towards the fighter. Suck it up, Lance thought, you can do this. The walk over to the machine equipment felt long and dreadful, and it was all thanks to the anxiety that riddled his head. Does Keith not like him? Did he really want to fight him or was it something else? As he approached the equipment, he found that Keith had moved places already. He looked left and right until he found Keith using the leg press. The fighter’s back was resting against a black padded mat while those thick thighs pushed against the weighted press in a soft locked position.

Lance crouched down next to Keith with his touch pad pressed against his chest and one hand steadying his bag on the floor, “Uh, g-good morning, Keith. Think you can pause to discuss your massage appointment?” Nailed it.

“Sure.” One word, and it came out as the most suggestive grunt Lance had ever heard.

The black weights connected to the press softly clapped down against the other weights and Keith slipped out of the machine. When the man rose to full height, Lance was still crouched on the floor, and to all that was holy, it made Lance feel strangely aroused. Seeing all that muscle from a low angle was...something. Especially with a fresh sheen of sweat that rolled down his torso and disappeared against the elastic band of his shorts. Lance swallowed hard, fuck he was right there.

“O-okay, so just a few things to know…” Lance choked out a graveled voice as he stood up, then cleared his throat, “I’m going to ask a couple standard questions then request that you follow some, ah, simple rules.” He paused as he watched Keith cross his arms then nod his head. Lance cleared his throat again and started, “First, I need to know if you have any matches coming up.”

Keith hummed, “The qualifiers are this week.”

Lance mumbled to himself, “That means I’ll need to talk to the other fighters participating…” He looked up and addressed Keith, “A massage session a few days before an event is best. Do you have any allergies or products that you need to avoid?” When the man shook his head, Lance jotted them down in his notes next to Keith’s name.

“Why do you need to know when the matches are?” The other man asked.

Lance was slowly forgetting his previously nervous attitude, replacing it with a business mindset, “Getting a massage right before an event is useless because the body needs time to regenerate. For best results, it’s recommended to get them at least two days before or one day after.”

“Will you be there?”

“Of course. Sometimes accidents will happen and the gym’s personal doctor asked for my assistance.”

“I meant, will you be watching the fights?”

Now that made Lance pause. Watching some of the caged fights might be fun. Just because he couldn’t participate himself didn’t mean he could enjoy himself alongside the audience. Might as well get a free show out of it.

Lance gave a simple nod, “Yes, I’ll be watching.” He didn’t notice the smile that appeared on Keith’s face. Instead, he continued with his explanation, “Before you get a massage, you need to make sure that you’re hydrated so drink a lot of water. Don’t eat anything beforehand, it’ll be uncomfortable to lie on your stomach, and when you move around.” Lance closed the touch pad then looked Keith square in the eye, “The last thing is something I tell all my clients: getting a massage session is an investment, not a luxury—especially for sports.”

The fighter gave a firm nod, “Understood.” As Lance began to walk away, Keith shot his arm out and curled his fingers around the other’s bicep, “Wait!”

The touch was electrifying and the sudden heat caused the scar on his back to throb. Fuck, not now. Lance had to squeeze his eyes tight to concentrate on the ebbing sensation. When it finally disappeared, he was going to apologize for the sudden reaction when he saw that Keith was looking at him with worry. His eyebrows were scrunched up, his lips were firmly pressed together, and his hands were now hovering near his body instead of touching him. Lance wanted to know if Keith ran this hot all the time or if it was just now.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you did I?” Keith asked softly.

Lance clutched the touchpad tighter and used his other arm to rub low on his neck close to his scar, “I’m fine, an old injury was acting up. What did you need?”

Keith’s hands dropped and his demeanor became soft and slightly embarrassed, “I was actually going to ask about last night...but I think I might have gotten my answer now, with how you reacted.”

“What were you going to ask?”

The fighter rubbed at his shoulder and averted his eyes, “I wanted to know where you learned to kick like that—if you were a fighter before.” He kept his head down seemingly in shame, “Sorry for asking so bluntly, and sorry about last night.”

It was strange seeing this attentive side and it was confusing Lance. Perhaps this savage fighter wasn’t as rude and violent as he initially thought. Keith did just apologize and he wasn’t actively chasing him down like he did last night. With this in mind, Lance took a chance. He wanted his confidence back and he wanted to be able to stand his ground when things got tough. He decided that interacting with the fighters at Voltron Gym was a start. Lance couldn’t hide behind Pidge and Shiro forever. Besides, massage therapy required cooperation.

“I’m sort of like Shiro…” when Lance said that, Keith’s head snapped up and he continued, “I used to participate in a few matches and one day, I was injured. The accident was pretty bad and it took a long time to recover. I was never passionate about fighting, but the officials made it very clear that the door was closed and locked.”

“I’m...I’m so sorry, Lance. I didn’t mean to—what happened?”

Lance forced a smile and knocked his knuckles against Keith’s chest, “I’ll see you later, and remember to shower off.”

The masseur walked away from the speechless fighter. It was barely nine in the morning and already Lance felt drained and exhausted. He didn’t think he would be sharing his story so soon. Just mentioning his story to Keith made him feel disassociated, as if he floated out of his body and watched a monotone version of himself respond accordingly. Talking to Shiro had been fine because of their similar positions, but Keith made him feel guilty for not trying harder, and yet at the same time determined. But then he would remember the accident from years before, and the threat that lingered at the back of his head: “Fight for us or pay the price”.

Walking to the massage room was short and prevented Lance’s mind from wandering too far. He closed the door behind him and hooked his bag on the hanger that had been bought by Pidge. The massage tools were unloaded and spread out on a stand as well as a few products he would be using. Once those were done, he quickly changed out of his clothes. He had them folded and placed into the new cabinet, exchanging them for the spa uniform he brought with him. They were black and akin to scrubs, but they were more form fitting and had a low standing collar. After buttoning up his uniform, he busied himself with preparations. Towels were laid out, music was prepared, and he decided that a few candles wouldn’t hurt; he decided on vanilla.

There was a knock on the door before it creaked open. Stepping through the door was Keith, fresh out of the shower and wearing a clean pair of loose, thigh length, running shorts that were coupled with spandex. Lance could immediately tell that Keith had never had a massage before: he wasn’t looking at him and was using the towel to hide his face.

Lance approached him and asked softly, “Do you want to keep the running shorts on, or should I step outside for a bit? Comfort comes first before anything else.”

Keith responded slowly, “Shorts.”

“Okay, lie down on the table and we’ll get started. I’ll use the blanket to keep you warm while I work.” Lance motioned towards the table. As Keith positioned himself, Lance continued to do his usual explanation, “I’ll be focusing on a restorative process, so you will feel pain. If anything becomes uncomfortable, you need to speak up.”

When Keith hummed in confirmation, Lance began his massage. Most of the body was used in mixed martial arts, so he would have to check every muscle possible. The arms and shoulders would be first, and then he would work his way down. A thin blanket was draped over Keith’s body to retain warm, then the top was folded down to reveal the expanse of his back. They were broad and well used. Lance warned Keith that he was going to begin then opened up an oil container. He preferred to start with oil since it prevented skin irritation from the constant friction of rubbing. As a little something extra, he matched the oil’s aroma to the vanilla that floated around the room. Slow circular motions were used first to get the blood flowing and to ease Keith into a relaxed state. He wanted the fighter to unwind, not flinch from his touch, so he kept the rhythmic movements going until he felt the man beneath him slowly recline. Now for the interesting part.

Lance pressed down slowly and listened carefully for any grunts or groans that escaped the client’s mouth. When Keith’s voice got too strained, he moved on to the next section of muscles and repeated the process. It was important to quickly find the pain threshold so that he could work just below it. He quietly reminded Keith to breathe as he continued to manage his discomfort. Damn, his back was strong; not a single trace of fat. It was just pure muscle.

When the shoulders and back were done, Lance moved onto the arms. He pressed down and lifted them up to stretch them. By this time, the fighter below him was humming but still conscious to help with the stretching. Lance draped the blanket back over his shoulders, then flipped the lower half to start on his legs. He went through the same process again, applying pressure and finding the pain threshold, then using pressure and stretching the man’s limbs. He noted that they were firm, strong enough to squeeze the living shit out of anyone. Once that was done, Lance asked Keith to turn over so that he was lying on his back. The fighter didn’t move.

“Keith? Are you okay?” Lance asked.

A groan floated out of the headrest, “Fuck...give me a minute...I feel sore.”

Lance rolled his eyes, “It’s your first time experiencing sports massage. Of course you’re sore. Is there any pain?”

“No pain...it feels strangely good.” Keith mumbled.

“Good, that means it’s working. Now turn over, idiot. I’m sure you’ve had worse.” Lance lifted the blankets for Keith. Below, the man slowly turned and Lance finally saw his expression. His eyebrows were pressed down and his eyes were closed tight, but he was smiling like a satisfied winner. Lance encouraged and praised him, “Halfway there, then you can really rest.”

Massaging the front was different, but Lance tried his best to keep it professional. He kept his hands away from the running shorts and focus on the exposed skin. Again he started at the shoulders and stretched the arms so that the chest muscles opened up. Afterwards, he went through the routine once more and kneaded the muscles for the rest of Keith’s body. By the time he was done with the massage session, the predator of a man had melted into harmless prey. The man below him was breathing slow, but each inhale and exhale was long and heavy. Lance knew how these massages affected athletic people, but this was too much. He always knew that his hands were “magic”, as stated by Allura, but usually he left the room right away so his clients had a moment to themselves to relax. Seeing the once beastly animal limp on the table was too tempting. Keep it strictly business, Lance.

“Don’t move. Stay and rest for a bit longer while I grab some water for you.” Lance was proud by how steady his voice was. He washed his hands before stepping out.

The lounge was only a few doors down, but Lance took his time walking so it would give Keith more time to relax. He spotted the white refrigerator and opened it up to swipe a clear water bottle, making sure that it was sealed and new. Afterwards, he walked back to the massage room and opened the door to find that Keith was still lying down in the same position.

“How are you feeling?” Lance asked as he set the water down. He began pulling the blanket off to refold it for the next appointment.

Keith slowly sat up, “Everything aches. Kind of like a satisfying workout.”

Lance hummed, then remembered something, “That’s right! You’ll need salt.” He began rummaging through the small cabinets above the sink and pulled out a sealed plastic bag, “This is Epsom Salt, and it’s best to soak in this after a massage.” He gave the bag to Keith, who cupped it gingerly, “Since the gym only has showers, you’ll have to do this at home.”

No words, just a nod, and Keith started to slip off the table. His arms were locked in place and his shoulders hunched over. Lance watched with contained laughter how the fighter struggled to stand on his own, it was hilariously cute and ridiculous how slow Keith was moving. When his barefoot finally touched the floor and he was standing, he crept towards the door in a strained hobble. Lance caved in and snorted.

There was a strained growl and Keith was turning his head, “What’s so funny?”

Lance’s voice was wobbly from the giggles escaping, “You’re like a little fawn.” More stifled laughter came out.

“Shut. Up.” Keith slowly opened the door and braced his other arm against the frame. 

Unfortunately, they weren’t counting on an audience. Just outside the door were a group of men waiting on bated breath and curious eyes. Among them were a few familiar faces, two of them were Regris and Shiro. There was a short moment where no one said nothing, where everyone stared at Keith’s quietly shaking form, with a flush high on his face and blinked. The entire thing was bizarre, and Lance was forced to appear at the threshold to question their presence.

“Is there a reason why everyone is standing there and starring?” Lance asked.

Everyone began to shuffle in place when Shiro spoke up first, “The guys were going to ask about the massage, but got nervous and ended up camping here. Not surprising really since you’re our first massage therapist to work here.” Lance scratched his cheek and smiled. Guess he wasn’t the only one nervous.

“Since Keith was first, we were going to ask him how it was.” Regris blurted out, “But, uh, we were a little surprised when...um…”

Shiro’s laughed grabbed everyone’s attention, “Lance must have drained the fight right out of you! You’re knees look like they’re about to buckle!” The coach was snorting and Lance could obviously see how embarrassed Keith was, so to prevent any further discomfort, he turned their attention to their coach. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Shirogane.” Lance grabbed everyone’s attention like he snapped his fingers, “I wouldn’t get too smart, because you’re next on my schedule.” The coach choked and flushed pink across his scarred face, “And as a little endnote, Allura permitted me to do whatever I wanted as long as I don’t use pressure points. Otherwise, you might fall asleep again.

There was a beat before the hallway roared with laughter, steering the attention away from Keith and towards their coach who was covering his face and groaning. Lance smiled at their joking and howling; Voltron Gym was a nice place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was fun! Next chapter, we get a peek into Keith's point of view: how did he feel about the massage? It's nothing new for Lance, but what about Keith? Stay tuned.


	3. Silent Embarrassment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith starts his twenty-four hour recovery with something steamy...then lunch with friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late posting, real life problems had set be back a couple days, but I did it! This chapter is shorter for some reason, I just couldn't get much done this week. WARNING: The first half of the chapter is a bit steamy (literally and figuratively).

The soothing touch lingered like remnants of a deep sleep. Aching muscles sank willingly into the steaming water, and the salt grains dissolved faster as the surface shifted. The steam worked through Keith’s hair, and the hot water penetrated his exhausted form. It reminded him of the massage session: gentle and calm. Keith always ran hot, but his skin burned after spending nearly ninety minutes at the mercy of Lance’s glorious hands. It was amazing. His limbs were stretched, his body was rejuvenated, and the old knots he had long forgotten about were worked out of his system.

After the massage session, Lance had made sure that everyone understood the importance of rest. The masseur lectured everyone in the hallway. At least twenty-four hours were required after a massage for recovery, then the fighters were allowed to continue training. Keith was instructed to eat a meal and soak in the Epsom salt before resting. When Shiro dropped him off at their shared apartment, he did exactly that, and he was currently soaking in Epsom salt. Only five minutes in and Keith was already relaxing, inhaling deep so the steam would clear his sinuses.

The beige tiles of the bathroom matched the white porcelain bathtub that was joined with the shower. The steel faucet was making slow melodic drips next to Keith’s propped up feet. Hanging from the bar was a poke-a-dot shower curtain that was drawn and pulled away from the water. Next to the bathtub were the toilet and a towel rack attached to the opposite wall. Because the apartments were meant to house more than two people, the granite sink was one door over and had two separate bowls for multiple people to attend to their business. It was a nice set up for Keith and Shiro. Unfortunately, the ventilation system was where the sinks were and Keith wasn’t about to listen to the obnoxious humming, so the small rectangular window above the shower would have to do.

How long was he supposed to soak in the Epsom salt? Hell, what was he supposed to do for the next day? Keith let his head fall back against the beige tiles. The water was still steaming hot, slowly filtering through the small window, and his aching body was starting to feel a bit better. He was almost as relaxed as this morning, with those perfect hands running up and down his body. The fighter had to really concentrate on keeping the session strictly business. He’s heard of people getting aroused by a massage, accidently popping a stiffy. It was actually the whole reason why Keith cursed and told Lance to give him a moment, not that he would admit to that. But now that he was safely within the confines of his apartment, Keith wondered what it would feel like to have Lance under him, desperately pressing his fingers into his back as he pleasured him.

Beneath the water’s surface, he could feel his member twitch with interest. Keith wasn’t about to stop either, so he took it further. He imagined what it would be like to have the other man with him. Would Lance be under him? No, Lance seemed like a competitive person, then again, he wouldn’t mind the masseur being on top, teasing him and pulling him taunt like a string, tempting him. But then Keith wasn’t always patient, so he would flip them over and have those strong legs wrapped around his waist, or even pressed against his shoulders. Keith wondered if Lance’s thighs were firm from exercising, or if the years had turned them soft and supple.

As Keith let his fantasies expand, he rubbed himself, going slow and making sure every inch of his member was touched. The water above rocked back and forth from his motions, and lightly slapped against the porcelain confinements. With every breath that escaped his lips, the steam moved in wisps and curled into the air, forming droplets along any surface. The more Keith moved, the louder the clapping of water got. He thought about Lance: legs that could knock a fighter out, sex tousled hair, eyes overwhelmed with bliss, and those hands pulling and scratching anything they could touch as Keith moved inside him.

Water breached the edge of the bathtub and splashed against the beige tiles. His toes curled and he pressed them hard against the tiles across from him. Keith pressed back against the stone walls as he panted, then moaned as he released. More water escaped and poured from the brim of the tub, slowing down into trickles as Keith slumped against the wall. The white clouds were starting to mix in with the haze of Epsom salt. For a while, Keith just stared at it before he groaned and dragged his hands down his face. Only two days of being around the new guy and already Keith was fantasizing about him. He just—he got off to the thought of Lance, and it was faster than anything he’s done before! The man was slightly ashamed with himself, and the worst part was that he was still standing proud, erection showing no signs of waning.

Disgusted at the thought of soaking any further in the hazy white water, Keith drained the tub, then pulled the curtains closed to shower off. Round two ended up taking a little longer, but at least it was no longer a problem. When he was finally done, Keith wrapped a towel around his hips then walked straight to the kitchen. Cold air licked against his heated skin as he reached for a beer bottle. Time for some real relaxation, Keith thought. He circled around the counter and into the conjoined living room, swiped the television remote off the coffee table, then jumped onto the couch. Only a few seconds after the screen flickered on, there was a knock at his door.

“Who is it?!” Keith screeched, as he twisted off the cap. The front door was only a few feet away.

“The pizza man!” The voice was low but feminine, then the voice continued, “It’s Pidge, idiot! I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in!”

Keith scrunched his eyebrows, “You don’t have a key—” the doorknob twisted and the door began to open, “Fucking shit!”

The man cursed more as he slammed the open beer bottle on the coffee table and sprang up. The towel fell from his hips, and he scrambled to rewrap the cloth around his hips. Keith didn’t care if Pidge popped into the showers while the others were washing—she would often scream announcements with her eyes closed and scare the fighters, but this was his apartment. It was intrusive and it scared the ever living shit out of him. The door was creaking open and Keith began to panic. There wasn’t enough time for him to run straight to his room, so he tightened the towel around his hips and thought, what’s the worst that could happen? As calmly as he could, Keith took the remote once more and picked up his beer for a taste. Stay calm.

Behind him, Keith heard Pidge close the door, “Get dressed, we’re going out for lunch.”

Keith didn’t turn and flipped through the channels, “Already ate.” He drank his beer.

“Yeah? Well, Lance and I haven’t, so get dressed because you’re coming with us. Shiro thinks you haven’t had lunch yet.” What? Keith turned around and was so startled that he spat out his drink, hacking and coughing violently. 

Standing next to Pidge was Lance, wearing his casual clothes instead of his uniform, and using his hands to cover his eyes. The masseur’s lips were pressed firmly together and he could see the rosy color in his cheeks getting darker by the second. One of his fingers had slightly shifted as if he were peeking between the blindfold that he fashioned out of his hands, but quickly moved them back into place. It was cute, but also humiliating for Keith. The guy he just used as material was standing in his apartment sneaking small peeks at Keith in only a towel.

Lance smiled awkwardly with his eyes still covered, “S-sorry for barging in...Pidge says she does this all the time?” Even the masseur was unsure of himself.

Keith set his drink on the table, “Pidge does that at the gym showers, but never here. Usually Matt is with her and makes sure before walking inside.” The fighter glared at Pidge. As a response, the young woman only shrugged her shoulders.

The young woman turned to Lance and raised an eyebrow, “Why are you covering your eyes? You see people naked all the time.”

Lance kept his hands trained over his eyes, “The so called ‘naked people’ are always covered with a blanket! Besides, it’s different when you’re in someone’s home…” Lance’s eyes drifted over to Keith before squeaking and covering his eyes again, “Sorry!”

This day was going to be filled with embarrassment and humiliation. Dear universe, just kill him now! Let some sort of meteor crash straight into his apartment because he would not last. Keith took one last look at the two visitors in the living room. Pidge had her arms crossed making her large green coat rise up against her neck. It made her appear smaller than usual. Lance, on the other hand, was still covering his eyes and was starting to alternate between his left and right foot. He was getting nervous, but it was also cute how Lance got bashful. Keith caught on, heaved a defeated sight, and shuffled into his bedroom. When the door was closed, he went to his drawer and pulled out the first thing he saw: boxer briefs, jeans, and a black shirt. If this was considered his rest day, then he was going to treat it like a lazy day. Keith slipped on some sneakers and grabbed a ratty old crew-neck sweater with the Voltron Gym logo on it. 

Outside in the conjoined living room and kitchen, Pidge was sitting on the arm of the couch. She was swiping through her phone with her tiny backpack sitting in her lap. Next to her was Lance, leaned forward with his chin resting on both hands, intrigued by the current commercial cycling through. It was an advertisement about the 21st Century Fight League. It was a tournament that was sponsored by several contributors, but the most recent was Altea Spa and Sport Treatment.

“I guess Allura wasn’t lying about using the league to roll in some more customers…” Lance mumbled.

Pidge closed her phone and turned her attention to Lance, “What do you mean?” Keith listened as he put the beer bottle back in the refrigerator.

“Our work building is under construction right now. Allura wanted to expand the building and add in a few more options.” Lance leaned back against the couch with his chin against his chest, “I think the league had a little bit of an influence because our sports treatment center was small compared to other areas. If you think about it, Allura only changed our client pool to the sports department for the duration of the renovations.”

Keith walked out of the kitchen then patted Pidge on the back to signal he was ready, “So what does that mean for us?” He moved so Lance had space to stand up, “Does it mean anything special for you or the MMA Fighters?”

The apartment was locked behind them and Lance explained, “For the masseuse and masseurs, it means that our focus will be more on muscle recovery, and to prevent any injuries or current damage to progress. Not only that, but I think this arrangement was meant to show athletes that there are pros to committing to a therapeutic massage…” Lance rubbed his chin then added, “It doesn’t mean anything special for the fighters specifically. It’s their choice to either fully commit or ignore the assistance.”

Pidge pulled both Keith and Lance along, talking as she guided them towards her car, “Allura is a smart cookie. She used the upcoming fight league as advertisement then sent out her employees to do paid demos at sports centers.”

Keith hummed in agreement. Their conversation continued as they seated themselves in Pidge’s car. The fighter willingly climbed into the back seat first so Lance had a vacant seat next to the young woman. The masseur seemed to be a little more comfortable with the receptionist, openly talking about his job and how it related to the athletic world. The more Keith listened the more he understood Lance’s words before his massage session: “it’s an investment, not a luxury." Most people saw it as a little present to themselves, to be pampered and to be taken care of. To an extent, that part was true, but it was a commitment to participants who were willing to put in the hours. Most of the conversation bounced back and forth at the front of the car, and it was comforting to Keith. He wasn’t one to jump into a conversation unless he was genuinely curious or was personally questioned. 

As he listened to the words floating around the small space, he let his eyes drift through his surroundings. Pidge’s car was relatively clean. Tied around the metal peg holding up the headrest was a car freshener in the shape of a tree with the words, “Black Frost”, printed in white letters. There was a spare sweater and a blanket folded neatly on the spare seat next to him. He was pretty sure that if he pulled open the middle compartment that led to the trunk, Keith would find a pillow to match. The car itself was a common sight, but definitely better off than the scratched and dented counterparts.

Outside the car, Keith recognized some of the buildings and knew that they were heading downtown. The restaurant that Pidge was treating Lance to was a popular place for the Voltron Gym’s fighters because they were close friends with the head chef. The man controlling the kitchen with an iron spatula was also a fighter for some time before he retired, married, and opened up a restaurant with his loving wife. Every now and then, the group of men would stop by to grab a bite to eat knowing that their meals would be special made with their diets in mind.

Pidge pulled into a parking lot, circling around at least three times before spotting a customer enter their vehicle. The young woman turned on her signal and waited for the other person to back out of their space before dangerously swooping in. Keith saw Lance visibly flinch and braced from how fast Pidge had whipped her car into the parking space. Once they were situated, they exited the car and walked towards the redwood building.

The restaurant itself was built at the bottom of a steep slope and right next to an open river. A lot of the surrounding forest trees were kept to give it a mystical atmosphere and much of the plants that decorated the building were set up on both sides of the glass walls. From the top of the hill, one could see the herbal garden growing and being attended to by one of the employees, while the other side of the building had a public garden for guests to walk through. Connecting the parking lot to the restaurant was a set of stairs that cut straight through a winding ramp meant for the handicap. Other than the stairs and ramp that were running through a lush forest of plants, there was one more path visitors could take…

“Is that a trolley?” Lance pointed to a red box sitting on tracks that led straight into the building.

Keith watched the young man walk up to the trolley cart to examine it. It was similar to the trolley cars in hill dominated cities, but it was about two thirds smaller. Still, it was big enough to squeeze in six people. The trolley was decorated with low glowing lights to outline its shape in the darkness, and it had a sliding door open and ready to be loaded. The fighter could see a small sparkle form in the man’s eyes as he looked the contraption up and down. It was like watching Pidge in an electronics store. But there was hesitation. Keith could see that Lance was rubbing his hands together vigorously and looking around for other people.

Lance turned to Pidge and asked, “Does it work? No one is using it.”

“It’s operational, but it’s very slow.” Pidge smiled, “The trolley is one of the things this restaurant is famous for.”

There was a pause before Lance looked at Keith, “C-can we ride it? Please? I’ve never seen one of these before.”

Keith’s eyes widened before he rubbed his nose and shuffled in place, “Sure, I don’t mind.” He felt happy for some reason. Maybe because Lance was asking him, “But it’s mostly up to you and Pidge. You’re the ones who are on lunch break and need to go back to the gym.”

Lance smiled, and bounced up and down very slightly, like he was containing his child-like joy, “My next appointment is in a few hours, so I have time. Pidge?”

The small woman shrugged her shoulders and walked towards the trolley, “I said it was ‘very slow’, not ‘so slow that it will take several hours’.” She stepped into the trolley then turned and waved for the two men to join her.

The fighter trailed behind Lance, watching in amusement as the man looked around in awe. Once they were settled inside, Keith turned and slid the door closed, making the metal crash and the trolley creak eerily. Inside were two seats opposite of each other. Mounted on one column between the multiple square windows was a bright orange button. Keith was about to tell Lance to press the button, so he could have fun with starting the ride, but Pidge beat him to it and showed the young man the flashing light. Once pressed, the trolley jerked forward and began its slow descent into the beautiful redwood building. All three passengers took their time looking around at the scenery, enjoying the tall trees and gentle breeze that flowed in from both the forest and the river. The trolley took about five minutes to descend, and another two for it to settle and safely lock in place.

Keith pulled on the door to slide it open, then stepped outside and held his hand out for Lance, “Watch your step.”

Lance slipped his hand into Keith’s, barely gripping his hand, “T-thank you…” The masseur stepped over the gap then copied Keith’s posture and did the same for Pidge.

Pidge laughed loudly when she took both men’s hands, “Damn right I’m royalty!” When she was out of the trolley, she turned and bowed politely, “Thank you, good sirs.” They all laughed.

All three entered the building and it was just as lovely. Vines wrapped itself around most of the columns, and just passed the hundreds of tables was a long patio to enjoy the scenic flow of the river. Keith and Pidge knew the routine for coming to the famous restaurant, Balmera Crystal, and they would always ask the host or hostess to alert the head chef of their presence. All they had to say was their names and that they came from Voltron Gym. It was like a special password for VIP guests, plus the fighters frequented there enough that most of the employees recognized them immediately. They were practically a family. After Pidge asked the hostess to pass along the word, they were guided to the patio area.

Natural reflexes caused Keith to press his hand against Lance’s lower back so he could guide him through the tables. The young man didn’t seem to mind, but Keith could see that Lance was somewhat self-conscious; he was smiling despite looking down. As they neared their table, Keith gently coaxed Lance forward so he had the opportunity to choose his seat first. Once situated, the menus were placed in front of them and the hostess gave a slight bow, assuring Pidge that she would alert the head chef.

Lance flipped his head left and right, “This place is beautiful! It feels so romantic, almost like a hidden fairy tale.”

“You should see this place at night.” Pidge gushed, “The workers float little candle lit boats down the river. Couples reserve this place for their weddings and half of them do it at night because of the candle show.”

“I want to come back here at night!” Lance leaned forward in his seat, “But I don’t want to go alone...it’d be weird, right?”

Should he ask? Balmera Crystal would be perfect for a date...Lance did say he wanted to come back during nighttime, and he didn’t want to be alone. They didn’t even have to have dinner here because there was an open bar that allowed patrons to take their drinks out on the patio to enjoy the view. It was a good idea, and if Lance wasn’t comfortable to be alone with him, then he could always invite Pidge and a few of the guys. Keith was about to invite Lance to come back during the night, when he heard a booming voice.

“Keith! Pidge! It’s good to see you again!”

Turning to the familiar voice, Keith greeted the head chef of Balmera Crystal, “Nice to see you too, Hunk. How’s the wife?”

Standing before them was a huge man with bulking forearms crossing his chest. The head chef, Hunk, was wearing the standard white uniform with an orange half-apron wrapped around his hips. There was a red scarf wrapped around his neck to keep sweat from dripping into the food, and an orange bandanna to tie back his medium hair. Hunk’s gut was a bit larger than most of the fighters, but it was mainly because he tasted his dishes so often, to make sure nothing but perfection left his kitchen. His stance hadn’t changed since his fighting years: strong and proud, but chin down to show that he didn’t underestimate his opponent.

Hunk beamed and answered, “Shay’s doing great. She helps me tend to the garden during her free time. That woman loves gardens.” When the large man saw that Pidge and Keith weren’t alone, he leaned forward to see the new guest, “I see you brought a new face! I’m Hunk, nice to meet you!”

“Lance. You have a lovely place here.” The masseur shook hands with the head chef.

They exchanged pleasantries and Hunk took their orders. Keith went with his usual diet, while Pidge and Lance ordered their lunch. The conversation lulled into comfortable silence as they waited for their food. When it arrived, Keith asked Lance if he wanted to try anything off his plate before he started to eat. When the other man agreed, Keith cut off small pieces of each food and then picked up his own plate so he could safely brush them into Lance’s. All three of them exchanged some pieces and soon they were munching, enjoying the explosive flavors and juicy meat. They finished fairly quick, and before they left Pidge ordered a meal to go for her brother Matt. The entire ride back was spent gushing about Hunk’s marvelous culinary skills and smelling the succulent aroma wafting from the plastic box. Pidge and Lance dropped Keith off at his apartment, and walked the man up to his front door. Keith gave them both warms smiles before waving them off and telling them that he would see them both tomorrow.

By the time Keith stepped into his apartment, he realized that he had forgotten to ask Lance out. Keith groaned as he planted his back against the door and slid down. How does one go about asking their massage therapist on a date? Has it been done before? Keith grumbled and walked into the kitchen once more to grab the open beer bottle. Tomorrow, he would ask tomorrow. He grabbed the remote once more and slouched in the couch. The television was turned on, and the same commercial was playing, advertising the spa and promoting the league. But Keith wasn’t paying attention. Instead he was thinking about Lance, and how easy it was to be around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick question for my readers: would you like a short summary at the start of each chapter? I like when other writers do this, especially when I reread their stories and I'm looking for my favorite parts. I'm thinking of adding them.  
> UPDATE: I saw that a lot of people wanted the summaries, so I went ahead and added them. Chapter 4 coming up!


	4. Reversal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A coffee date with...unexpected guests. Watch out Lance!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I listened to everyone's request and put in a short summary for each chapter. I knew that I wasn't going to post this chapter exactly on the dot because I started playing old video games for the memories. I honestly liked making this chapter because of the action. Anyways, thank you again for the comments, kudos, and views! Have fun!

A fine layer of chocolate cappuccino was slowly spreading along the surface of the microwave. The once beautiful mug had several lines of chocolate smudged on its body, as if a volcano erupted and boiled over. It was violently atrocious how badly Lance failed at preparing a hot drink. When the young man had found out that the Voltron Gym stocked their own instant coffee, he skipped his usual coffee house and went straight to the gym. With his mug in hand, he mixed the cappuccino powder, milk, and creamer to make it extra sweet, then popped it into the microwave for one minute. Instead of chocolate goodness, Lance was greeted by a mess that mocked his mistakes.

The sweet aroma taunted him. It took Lance a few tries to pick up the scalding mug before dropping it into the nearby sink with a loud clatter. He flinched from the sound and peered over the edge to examine the cup: it wasn’t broken. Satisfied that the mug hadn’t shattered, Lance picked up the glass turntable and brought it over to the sink. He rinsed it off before leaving it behind to clean up the microwave first. A long brown paper towel was ripped and folded several times so Lance could wipe down his mess. Afterwards, he took the sponge and cleaned up any lingering chocolate. With the microwave cleaned, Lance moved on to washing the glass plate and his mug.

“It smells sweet in here.” Lance jumped, then peeked over his shoulder to find Keith standing in the lounge with his gym bag, “What are you making?”

Seeing the MMA fighter in casual clothes always seemed strange to Lance. He was so used to seeing the men and women at Voltron Gym wearing the standard boardshorts and sports bra, but Keith was wearing neither at the moment. The other man was wearing a red pull-over hoodie and some jeans. His black gym bag was slung across his chest and resting against his lower back. Both hands were tucked away in his sweater pockets and his black hair was done up in an unkempt ponytail.

Lance went back to scrubbing the glass turntable, “I was trying to make some cappuccino, but it exploded…” He rinsed the glass and put it on the drying rack, “There was chocolate all over the inside of the microwave.” Lance moved on to washing his mug.

“Why don’t you get a drink from a café, or a coffee house?” Keith asked.

The young man finished washing, then turned around to face Keith as he dried his hands, “I heard Voltron Gym had instant coffee. I thought it would save some money and time, but it wasn’t worth it.” Lance threw the towel on the counter, then leaned back against it.

The masseur was trying his hardest to keep his eyes away from Keith because the fighter was staring again. The muscular man shifted his weight constantly, and Lance could see that his hands were moving underneath the pockets of his sweater. But those dark eyes stayed locked on Lance’s form, and it made him nervous. He felt like prey about to be pounced on. Before Lance could speak up or move away, Keith opened his mouth to speak, only to stop and have a half choked sound escape his throat. He watched as the man snapped his mouth closed before gritting his teeth and focusing harder, as if he could make Lance somehow burst into flames.

“Do you, uh, want to…” Keith’s hands seemed to sink further into his pockets, “I still have a couple hours...before my twenty-four hour rest is up. W-we could grab coffee...together.” Keith looked away and ran a hand through his hair hastily, “Only if you’re free! I don’t want you to miss an appointment or anything.”

For a moment, Lance thought he had gone deaf or he had mistaken Keith’s words. Was Keith offering to go and get coffee with him? Together? Just the two of them? Was this considered a coffee date?! Lance was running circles in his head trying to figure out if the fighter before him was being nice, or if he was dropping hints. It was so hard to tell! For now, Lance would take it as being nice. He curled one arm close to his torso, to settle the nerves in his stomach, and his other hand rose up to try and cover his face. His cheeks felt warm.

“Let me just grab my coat. It’s still a little chilly outside.” Lance answered.

Keith’s head shot up before he smiled and nodded his head. The fighter followed Lance all the way back to the massage room for his coat before they walked out of the gym. He could tell that some of the others were curious, even Shiro was watching them walk passed the receptionist desk. When Keith opened the door for Lance, he slipped through and thrust himself into the cold air. The sudden temperature change made him flinch and he squeezed his eyes shut to concentrate on the familiar throb that ghosted across his old injury.

“You okay?” Keith asked.

“I’m fine.” Lance lied, “Just cold.”

Lance could see that Keith wanted to ask more, but he stayed quiet. They began to walk down the street; the nearest coffee house was only a few blocks away. About two blocks in, Lance noticed that Keith had switched sides. Instead of walking next to the buildings, the fighter had planted himself between the street and Lance. The masseur suddenly felt warm. It was an old-fashioned gesture that his parents had taught their children: the men walked on the street’s side while women walked on the building’s side. Sure it was chivalrous and gentlemanly, but his parents taught all his siblings out of protection. His parent’s reasoning: what if there was a car accident, or abduction, or even a drive-by? And it was also a double standard, so Lance’s parents made sure that even if the man walking along the street’s side, they stayed far away from the edge of the sidewalk. The universe knows how many times cars cut corners at the crosswalk.

As the two of them approached their destination, a small chalkboard sign could be seen just outside the door of the coffee shop. The doodles had been neatly drawn and colored, listing all of the flavors and choices on the menu inside. The building itself was small and squished between two larger shops. This time Lance opened the door for Keith, and once inside Lance shivered from the ghostly sensation again. He waved off Keith’s concerned look and examined the menu. They had what he wanted. After ordering and paying, Lance and Keith took a seat at a small table. The menu above the cash register was also a chalkboard, and green unlike the black one outside. There was a long glass wall that separated the machines from customers, and there was old music playing softly in the background. It was a lovely place, and perfect for morning caffeine runs. Energy buzzed inside Lance. He felt awake after smelling coffee beans wafting through the air.

Lance relaxed a little into his chair, “The qualifiers are this week right? Only a couple days away?”

Keith hummed, “Yeah, only half of the participants from Voltron Gym make it through, and there’s not much of us entering this year.”

The masseur rolled his head against the wall to look at Keith, “Whose entering?”

“Ah, let’s see…” Keith held out his hands and counted on his fingers, “Kolivan and Antok will be in Heavy, Ulaz and Thace, will be Light Heavy, and I’m in Welter. I forgot if anyone else is participating, but we’ll be fighting against other sponsored gyms.”

Weight classes inside the MMA Sport were divided into fourteen categories and each one had a weight limit. If Lance remembered correctly, he was also in the Welterweight class several years ago. That meant Keith was no heavier than one hundred and seventy pounds. Any heavier and he would be in the Super Welterweight, or even Middleweight. Interesting. For a short moment, Lance imagined what it would be like to face off against Keith in the ring. They were technically the same size. Would they be evenly matched or would it be a landslide of a win? Lance came to the firm conclusion that it would be their determination and passion that decided the outcome: Keith was completely set on fighting, whereas Lance wouldn’t take it seriously. This made him think of another question.

“Why do you fight?”

The sudden enquiry made Keith’s head whip towards Lance, “Excuse me?”

Lance sat straight in his chair and turned to face the other fully, “I asked: why do you fight? Why is this tournament so important to you? What’s your motivation?”

The hum of the coffee machines whirled and whistled around them. But just passed the melodic humming, the barista shouted both their names and what they had ordered. The larger man stood up abruptly and jogged over to the pick-up area. Lance watched as Keith checked both of the drinks labels then used both hands to carry their order to the small round table. Both drinks were set down and arranged in front of their owners. Lance wrapped his hands around the waxed paper cup, letting the scalding heat pierce his fingers. Before him, Keith had removed the lid of his cup, hot vapor swirling up and brushing against his pale skin. His fingers were playing with the white plastic lid, worrying the thin edges.

Keith cleared his throat, “I fight...because it’s how I will get everything I want.” He continued to play with the plastic lid, “Getting a pro-contract can change your life if you plan it right, and...it was Shiro’s title.” Keith scooted closer in his seat and wrapped his hands around his coffee cup like Lance, “Shiro was the Champion of the arena, but it only lasted for so long. Fighting was his career, his passion...his dream. It felt wrong when it was suddenly torn away from him.”

Frustration, anger, disbelief, determination, it was all subtly present beneath Keith’s calm exterior. The car accident had caused Shiro not only his arm, but his entire career. Lance remembered his conversation with the coach, how the trainer had admitted to being resentful towards the officials. But that resentment changed into something positive, and Voltron Gym was born, to breathe life into potential fighters that could take up the mantle...wait.

“You want to take Shiro’s place.” Lance realized, “You want to continue where he left off, but—”

“It’ll never happen.” Keith finished, “I wanted the opportunity to fight Shiro in the ring and challenge him for the title of Champion.” The fighter blew lightly against the steam before continuing, “So Shiro and I made a deal: if I can win the tournament, then I would have the right to challenge him. It would be unofficial and off the record, but it would count.”

Lance beamed, “That’s right! Technically, Shiro never lost a fight.” He sipped his coffee then said, “So you fight because of Shiro?”

“I fight so that I know I’ve earned the right to challenge Shiro,” Keith looked up with fire in his eyes, “I won’t let the tournament’s excuses stop me.”

The room felt hotter. Suddenly the coffee’s heat was too much for Lance. The masseur signaled towards Keith that it was time to leave. Before they left, Lance went to the little table with the extra condiments and unfolded a coffee sleeve. He took a deep breath then exhaled heavily as he fanned himself. Why was it so hot?! The coffee cup was swept up into his hands as he jogged outside to catch up with Keith. There was a smile at the corner of the fighter’s lips.

“What was that little fanning thing about?” Keith joked.

Lance started walking, “Oh, nothing! It was just a little too hot inside the coffee house.” There was a snort behind him.

The walk back to Voltron Gym was calm. The hot beverage had definitely made the cold weather more enjoyable, and their talk inside the coffee house had given Lance a better understanding of Keith. The fighter was determined and it excited Lance to see him fulfill such an amazing dream. And he wasn’t going to lie, he wanted to see Shiro and Keith fight as well. An ex-champion versus a rising star? Could be intense. Just because Lance wasn’t in the fighting world anymore, doesn’t mean he could still enjoy watching matches. As they approached the gym, Lance felt a small nudge against his arm.

“Don’t cross the street to the gym.” Keith whispered, “Turn right.” There was something strained in his voice.

Lance tilted his head trying to see the other’s expression, “What’s wrong? Never pegged you as a person to skip on training.”

“That’s not—Just humor me, please?” Keith making a small plea was new.

Their coffee was nearly finished and they tossed them into a bin after turning right down a different street. They walked at least four blocks, passing by pottery stores and yoga studios, before making another right. By this time, Lance was starting to suspect something was wrong. Keith wouldn’t skip out on practice, especially right after such an important conversation. He wanted to ask, but the way he saw Keith’s eyes darting back and forth was stopping him.

“Why are we walking in a circle?” Lance asked. One more right turn and they would have completed it.

Keith was chewing his lip, “I wasn’t really sure before, but now I’m certain: they’re following us.”

Sweat gathered despite the cold weather. They were being followed? Lance kept his pace with Keith, using his peripherals and only moving his eyes. If the man beside him could pick up on that small detail without craning his neck, then Lance should be able to as well. Discerning faces amongst the growing crowd of pedestrians was rather difficult. Tailing someone meant that they were either behind Lance and Keith, or they were keeping pace across the street. Turning around would be too obvious, so Lance flicked his eyes over to the opposite sidewalk. He choked on his spit and his eyes began to water.

Two men were keeping pace with them, and one of them would occasionally look towards their location. The man who kept his eyes locked on both their moving bodies was tall and narrow, with thin eyes and high cheekbones. His hair was buzzed short and rough, showing glimpses of a pale scalp. The second man was broader, larger, and built like a gorilla. There was an ugly scar that Lance could barely distinguish scratched across his right eye, making it seem dull and lifeless without the beady black pupil.

“Lance, are you okay?” Keith rested his hand against the masseur’s back, “You look sick. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you…”

The young man shook his head, “No, it’s better that you told me. Those men aren’t following us...just me.”

The past was coming back to kill him, and Keith would be dragged down with him if he didn’t do something now. Lance was breathing hard and his brain was working over time. They needed to somehow lose them and make it back to the safety of Voltron Gym. They were currently in the shopping district, perhaps the outlet of stores would provide enough cover to slip through. Lance tugged on the fighter’s sleeve, feigning excitement and pointing towards a store front. It was a clothing store that he knew had a back exit. With frightening strength, Lance pulled the other man into the store and guided him towards the back.

“Lance, stop—what’s going on?” Keith grabbed his forearm and forced him to look back, “Who are they? Why do you think they’re following you?”

“They’re fighters just like you, Keith!” Lance whispered fiercely, “I-I used to fight for them, until...until…” He trailed off for a moment before shaking his head, “I’ll explain later! We need to leave now!”

There was more struggling before Lance finally pulled Keith through the narrow hallway and towards a white door with the exit sign above it. The door flew open and Lance took survey of his surroundings as if he were on a battlefield. The two were outside the shopping district now, in a large alleyway that was at least one block away from Voltron Gym. At least three large dumpsters lined the alleyway, along with several sewage lids that had hot air rising from the ventilation system. Wordlessly, the two men walked down and out of the alleyway towards the gym. Their brisk walking got them inside the building quickly, but it caught everyone’s attention.

Lance was about to escape into his assigned room, but Keith gripped his bicep and planted firmly in place, “Explain. Now. Who were they, and why are you so bent on getting away?”

“Keith, please let go—” The masseur was pulling against the man’s strong grip, when another hand came in to break them up.

Versatile and quick, a prosthetic hand was undoing the fighter’s fierce grip and pushing Keith back. With a few steps backwards, Shiro had inserted himself between Lance and Keith. His posture was straight, but his head was kept down and leveled with the fighter’s presence. Lance never realized how broad Shiro’s shoulders were, they were like an enormous wall that was trying to protect him.

“What’s going on here? You’re late for training, and when I finally see you walk back into the gym, it looks like you’re about to rip Lance’s arm off!” Shiro crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.

The buzzing tension in the air had made the gym deathly quiet. No gym should be this still and it frightened Lance more than it should have. The ghostly throbbing on his scarred back pulsed like never before and it was making him both irritated and confused, despite his obvious fear. The situation needed to be diffused: it wasn’t Keith’s fault. Lance was the one being followed and the other was just trying to help. Watching the two men square off reminded Lance of a ticking time bomb. Diffuse, Lance thought, diffuse, diffuse diffuse…

“We were being followed!” Lance blurted out. The air popped and the tension dissipated.

Shiro stepped out of the way to look at Lance, “Followed?”

“I noticed on our way to the coffee house.” Keith answered. He removed his gym bag and let it drop on a bench, “At first I thought it was a coincidence, but when Lance and I went inside, they stayed outside and just...stared at us. I wanted to make sure, so we circled around the block and they really were following us.”

“But why were they following you?” Shiro asked.

Keith crossed his arms and huffed, “I was just about to ask when you intervened.”

The two men looked straight at Lance with different expressions. Shiro had the right to be somewhat confused, but seeing his mouth slightly agape surprised him. There was a hint of shock and curiosity. Lance immediately understood: Keith was a fighter, and therefore it wasn’t a surprise if other contestants tried to scope out the competition. But in that short moment, Shiro had understood that they were after Lance and not Keith. He shuffled in place trying to shrink away from their calculating gaze. The urge to ignore the question was strong, but they deserved an answer. Spying on potential competitors was an underhanded move.

The heavy door to the gym swung open hard, causing the handle to crack into the wall. The sound alerted everyone inside, and their attention was turned to the entrance. Lance covered his mouth to hide a gasp, instinctively trying to hide behind Keith’s slightly larger figure. The two men from before had found them and walked straight into Voltron Gym. They were standing side by side, moving their heads slowly to survey each face inside the gym. The larger of the two smiled dangerously when he spotted Lance cowering behind Keith.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.” The man turned to his partner and growled, “Haxus, find his things. This one is coming with us.” The tall, thin man, Haxus, nodded and began to walk passed the fighters.

Before he could get further, Shiro shot his hand out and pressed heavily on his shoulder, “You’re not taking anything from my gym.”

Haxus brought his hand up and gripped Shiro’s flesh wrist tightly, “A very unwise move. You’d best listen to Sendak and let me through.”

“Again: you’re not taking anything…” Shiro brutally shoved Haxus back towards his partner, walking towards him as the other man stumbled backwards, “Leave.”

Haxus straightened himself and grunted as he got close to Shiro, “Stand aside, Champion.” Their chests bumped against each other and they kept their murderous gaze locked.

“If you know who I am, then all the better reason to leave.” Shiro curled his fists and pushed back steadily, forcing the other back on sheer will alone.

Haxus raised his arms and shoved Shiro, “Why should I fear you? You’re just a shadow of your former self, Champion: a man with nothing.”

Shiro smirked and asked darkly, “Did you know that shoving someone intentionally is considered assault and battery?” Then he whispered, “Not only that, you’re trying to force someone to come with you. That’s kidnapping in my book.”

One instant, the two men were squaring off like violent driven animals, and the next all hell broke loose. The movement was fluid, and Lance had never seen someone get taken down in one fell swoop. Shiro shoved his prosthetic hand against Haxus’ face, all while hooking a single foot behind the other man’s leg. With his hand pushing Haxus’ face backward, and his opponent’s leg being pulled forward, the man’s balance was thrown off and he was being pinned to the ground with one hand. The deafening sound of the man’s skull crashing into the hard floor echoed against the tense atmosphere of the gym. But it wasn’t enough to knock the other man out.

Legs shot up to lock around Shiro’s middle. Reflexes caused Shiro to try and break the other’s hold, but Haxus had locked his ankles together and was soon wailing on the man, punching straight into his ribs. Shiro winced and grunted after each blow, but didn’t let it last long. One punch straight across the jaw had Haxus’ head whipping across the floor, leaving him delirious and moaning in pain. Shiro forced the legs around him to fall apart, then he stood up and backed away. When he looked up, Sendak was upon him and throwing a punch.

Blocking was important in fighting, but it would still hurt to a certain extent. Shiro used most of his prosthetic arm to block the blow and it was enough to send the man falling backwards. The coach quickly rolled out of the way, dodging Sendak’s attempt to slam a knee into his solar plexus. As the fight dragged on, Shiro was being slowly pushed back; he was at a disadvantage when it came to Sendak’s larger size, but Shiro was nimble and experienced. The owner kept dodging and weaving. Lance was in awe when Shiro ducked under one of Sendak’s punches and used his opponent’s momentum to help throw the larger man over his shoulder. The large body went sailing a short distance and slammed into one of the bench presses. The metal weights rattled against the long barbell as Sendak winced.

The man shook his head and stumbled onto his knees, “Haxus, grab him! We’re leaving!”

Everything was happening so fast, that Lance couldn’t react in time. A hand wrapped around his wrist and twisted his arm harshly behind his back. Pain flared in his shoulder and he wailed. They were going to break it! Lance thrashed and struggled against Haxus, trying to break free. Had he really forgotten his training over the years? Keith and the other fighters stepped closer, but the man holding him hostage yelled and threatened to tear his arm off. Everyone froze and watched as Haxus slowly backed away from everyone. Lance was breathing hard and he could feel his eyes start to water from the pain that crawled up his neck. From across the room, Sendak and recovered and made heavy strides towards Lance’s weakened state. He grabbed his jaw and squeezed until Lance was looking straight at him.

“I hope you still know how to fight, Sharpshooter, because you’ll be fighting until you die.” Sendak growled.

Remembering those short snippets from years past made Lance desperate. He wasn’t going back to that dark room with the lit cage. He would never fight for someone else’s entertainment again, instead he would fight for himself. Just like his resolve back then, he would fight to survive. Lance screamed and his sudden cry surprised everyone in the gym. He pried his jaw out of Sendak’s hand and whipped it backwards so fast, that he ended up hitting Haxus in the nose. Lance’s arm was released, then he divided his attention between Sendak and his partner.

The masseur kicked hard and it landed square between Sendak’s legs, making the man grunt and instinctively cradle his jewels. With his head lowered and now within range, Lance swung and planted a left hook against Sendak’s cheek. Behind him, he could hear Haxus regain his composure. Lance turned, grabbed the man’s head with both hands and with all his current strength, pulled down so that it would collide with his raised knee. Blood dripped and stained across his jeans as Haxus fell backwards to attend to his bleeding nose. A grunt behind him alerted Lance of Sendak’s conscious state and with a practiced ease, Lance pivoted both his hips and his foot for his strongest back heel kick. He peeked over his shoulder to aim, then swung his leg high, making his heel connect with the temple.

Heavy breathing could only be heard and after Lance waited a beat to make sure Sendak stayed down, he braced one hand against his knee and cupped his second hand over his mouth. He did it! He survived. Lance looked up at the bystanders and everyone had gone quiet. He saw how everyone just stared at him with wonder. It wasn’t surprising for Lance since he used to be an MMA fighter himself, but to everyone else, he was a massage therapist. Everyone knew now, and although it settled some of his concerns, it ended up causing him more pain. Lance hadn’t fought like that in years and the sudden exertion coupled with his stressed anxiety was making him queasy. He collapsed down to his knees and curled in to try and prevent the pain in his stomach.

“Keith, I feel really sick.” Lance wheezed out, “A little help, please.”

Like a spell that was broken, everyone in the gym began to scramble. While Pidge called the police and the members attended to the unconscious men, Keith helped Lance stand and steadied him by the arm. Shiro followed along and guided them towards the lounge, ordering Keith to have Lance sit down on the couch and to fetch a trash bin, just in case. Just as Keith placed a metal trash bin near Lance, the masseur reached for the bucket and hurled. He coughed and hacked. Each time, mucus escaped his nose and his eyes watered from the poisonous sting in his throat. Someone rubbed his back, but he choked out a sob; he couldn’t feel the comforting gesture.

Lance spat into the bin again, “Should’ve brought me to the bathroom…”

Keith continued to rub the young man’s back, “Did you think you would make it there?”

He thought for a minute before shaking his head, “No.”

After a few more minutes, Lance was sure that his stomach had subsided. Shiro was crouching in front of him holding out a water bottle, “So...Sendak and Haxus. Maybe now is a good time to tell us more about yourself?”

The plastic cap snapped open, and Lance took a few sips before answering, “I-I’d have to leave you. I wouldn’t want more people coming after me and causing the gym unnecessary problems.”

“Lance, be reasonable.” Keith rested his hand on his forearm, “You said that they were fighters like us. I’m sure it would be a lot safer to stay in a gym filled with trained MMA fighters than leaving.”

The water bottle crackled in his hands and Lance bit down on his lips, “You have a point. But the qualifiers are just around the corner; what if they come after everyone in Voltron Gym?”

“All the more reason to explain what’s happening.” Keith wrapped his arms around Lance and rested his forehead against his, “If you think that, whoever they are, will target us, then we need to know what we’re getting into.”

Lance sniffed and used his palm to wipe his eyes, “Okay, I’ll tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that "Reversal" is when an athlete moves from an inferior position to a superior position? I thought this was fitting for Lance's situation. Next time on "Clinched": the qualifiers are approaching. Will it be peaceful or will there be some dark business behind the scenes?


	5. Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is formed, and things get hot and heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY! These past couple of weeks had me incredibly busy at work and I didn't have enough time to sit down and write. Not only that, I was trying to figure out if I wanted to write this chapter in Lance's point of view or Keith's. I ended up using Keith's point of view. Anyways, minor note before starting this chapter...WARNING: possible triggers. Lance does talk about his past, but I didn't make it so detailed that it was horrifying to read. Oh and slight smut. Thank you for being patient with me!

Everyone’s expressions were contorted in either disbelief or shock. Keith had taken residence next to Lance on the couch, his back twisted towards the masseur in full attention and his ankle resting across his opposite knee. Both his eyes and lips felt dry from being immobile for the last however many minutes—he didn’t keep track. Across from him was Pidge leaning forward in a three legged stool. Her hands were tightly pressed against the metal surface, never moving to adjust her round glasses that slipped down the bridge of her nose. Leaning against the countertop of the lounge was Shiro, crossing and uncrossing his arms stiffly, trying to find a comfortable position. Hunk, who had brought lunch for his friends at Pidge’s request, was frozen with chunks of food packed into his cheeks, and holding a half eaten burrito cradled in his large hands.

The only two people in the room that seemed relaxed were Coran, Voltron Gym’s doctor, and Allura, Altea Spa and Sports Treatment’s owner. The two new additions were polite in a bizarre way. Coran—despite being a doctor—was a foppish man. He had orange hair with a mustache curled to perfection and the beginnings of crow’s feet forming near the edge of his eyes. Everything about the doctor was proper and mature, except for his mismatched socks stuffed into brown buckled sandals. His one striped sock and second cat printed one didn’t stop him from shuffling around the room to check up on everyone’s health. Allura, on the other hand, was at a complete lost.

The regal woman before them was dark skinned with striking white hair that was kept in a half tie. She was still wearing her masseuse uniform underneath her heavy coat and clutching her purse strap like a deer caught in the headlights. Despite her sophisticated air, she was petrified by her employee’s wildly dark past. Her initial shock was quickly hidden behind a calm business exterior.

Hunk was the first to speak, audibly swallowing his food, “So let me see if I got this right? Sendak and Haxus are part of a gang and they came looking for you because you owe them money? And the money is from illegal underground fights that you used to participate in?”

“You make it sound so much worse, man.” Lance whined hopelessly.

Keith leaned forward to comfort Lance, “That’s not it. We’re just...trying to wrap our heads around the situation.”

Another groan escaped Lance as he let his head flop into his hands, “Worst. Day. Ever.” He picked up his head and began his second explanation, “Okay...several years ago, I was an MMA Fighter who participated in tournaments, but I was in a different country at the time. I was scouted and sponsored, but I didn’t know that the group who sponsored me was betting on my matches illegally.” Lance took a deep breath and dropped defeated against the back of the couch, “One day, my sponsor approached me and asked me to throw a match because of how much money they could earn from the betting pool. I-I got angry and—”

“You didn’t want to lose.” Keith answered, “The rush, the adrenaline, that triumphant feeling you get when you’re standing above your opponent—you didn’t want to lose that feeling.”

Nearly everyone in the room agreed with Keith’s comment. The pull of victory was tantalizingly sweet. Keith knew that if someone asked him to pull his punches, then he wouldn’t have listened. Earning a win was too tempting, especially when it came to fighting. The victory meant that Keith carried his own weight; he pushed his body and his opponent’s farther than he thought possible. The smell of the arena, the tape, the fierce drive: a fighter lived for those moments. Keith remembered Lance once saying that he was never serious about going pro, but he knew that Lance had the same instinctual drive when it came to a match: a thirst to win.

“The same day I won, I learned that my sponsors were actually a gang called The Galra. I tried to run, but they found me and tortured me…” Lance looked up towards Shiro saying his next words slowly, “They made sure I could never participate in an official match again.”

Shiro jerked in place, pushing himself hastily from his spot and waving his hands to make sense, “Then the accident...that was…”

Lance nodded his head, “I have third degree burns that cover the expanse of my back, my epidermis and dermis tissues were damaged…” He began to twirl his thumbs and quietly added, “I can’t feel anything, unless there’s a sufficient amount of pressure.”

Keith gripped his resting ankle and bit his tongue so hard that he tasted a hint of blood. He wasn’t sure if the other’s noticed, but he was breathing harder, trying to calm his rising anger for the Galra. They tortured him. They tortured Lance by burning him. What human had the mind to persecute someone, and then had enough corrupted moral to carry out their intentions? He kept his eyes concentrated on the man sitting next to him, and that’s when he realized that Lance was starting to get uncomfortable. The man was physically curling in on himself. His shoulders were high and scrunched up against his earlobes, and his eyes were fixated on his laced fingers gripping into each other like he was hanging onto dear life. 

With having Sendak and Haxus making their presence known, to having to retell his story because of everyone’s initial shock, Lance seemed like he wanted to hide under a blanket and sleep his problems away. Keith just wanted to wrap the poor man up and hide him away somewhere. Anger was replaced by a sudden need to protect Lance. The exhausted man next to him at least deserved that much.

“I’m sorry for asking this…” Allura broke the somber moment for a darker question, “But I’m a bit confused. You said that you were in official matches until they, uh…” The woman picked at her coat button and asked sheepishly, “When did the Underground Fighting start?” That’s right, Keith thought, that was the part Hunk got jumbled up.

“Since I was no longer allowed in official matches, the Galra forced me into the Underground. I earned at least a quarter of what they lost before escaping with some help. After deeming it safe, I settled here, studied, and became a massage therapist.” Lance rubbed both his arms nervously.

Coran wiggled his nose and commented, “I’m honestly surprised how calmly you’re telling this story…”

Lance shook his head and continued to move his hands around, “As long as I stay away from the details, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, enough.” Shiro grabbed everyone’s attention, “Thank you, Lance...for sharing with us. Now that we know your story, we can plan ahead and keep everyone safe.”

Immediately, the room sprang to life with conversation and mapping out their days to come. Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, and Keith were already planning how they would handle the qualifiers and how to keep the fighters both ready and protected from possible attacks or threats. After arguing back and forth, Pidge had convinced everyone on the idea of using a buddy system and sending out emails to alert their members, participants and non-participants alike. Two people wouldn’t cut it, in Hunk’s opinion, so Shiro suggested everyone to arrive in groups. The most important subject was saved for last: Allura wanted someone to stay with Lance at all times. The spa owner’s suggestion sparked a little fire in Lance, and he steamed.

“Allura, did you not hear my story?! I used to fight in matches and fought illegally in the ring! I’m capable of taking care of myself!”

The woman crossed her arms and shifted all her weight on one leg, “The key words in your sentence were ‘used to’. That means you are most certainly NOT capable! One fight got you sick with a—” Allura paused and turned to Coran, “What else did you say he had?”

“An anxiety attack and a small concussion.”

“With an anxiety attack and a concussion!” Allura snapped her fingers and pointed at Lance dangerously, “You will have someone with you at all times, whether you like it or not!” She huffed and rested her hands against her waist.

Pidge leaned back in her stool playfully, “I think he’ll like it if Keith accompanies him.”

“WHAT?!”

Everyone echoed and waited for Pidge to explain. The receptionist shrugged her shoulders, “Let’s face it: the only people Lance is comfortable with are in this room and Keith is the only one who has an open and flexible schedule.” Pidge pointed to each person as she explained, “Shiro is a coach; he’s gotta whip the fighters into shape and plus he owns Voltron Gym. Allura owns Altea Spa and Sports Treatment, so they can’t run it without their boss. Hunk has his restaurant and wife, I have to prepare hotel reservations and registrations, and I’m pretty sure we’re not Coran’s only patients for the clinic.”

It was hot. Really, really, hot, and Keith was pretty sure he was embarrassing himself with how red his cheeks were. His heart beat loudly against his chest as he scanned the room for any objections, but he found something worse: recognition. Fuck. Did everyone know that he was interested in the masseur? Keith was fine with Pidge knowing, but seeing Shiro scratched as his five o’clock shadow with a smile slowly creeping across his face was downright humiliating. Allura and Hunk seemed to have come to the same realization within a few seconds of each other. But they weren’t looking at Keith.

Wanting to know Lance’s opinion on the matter, Keith turned to talk but choked and swallowed his spit harshly. The man was leaning away from him with his elbow propped up on the couch’s arm. His hand was cradling his rosy cheek, and both his ring and pinky fingers were brushing against his lips. Lance was pouting in defeat, and Keith was strangely enthralled by how the masseur’s cheeks puffed up with his lips firmly pressed together. The crinkle on the bridge of Lance’s nose was charming. Keith watched as Lance turned his head more so that his mouth was hidden in the palm of his hand.

“Fine.”

The fighter’s heart was soaring. Lance agreed, no arguments, and the way he said “fine” was killing him in the softest ways. Dear universe, what other things would he discover while staying with Lance? Keith bit into his tongue once more to focus. Shiro and Allura gave both Keith and Lance permission to rest until it was the day of qualifiers: that meant the rest of the day and tomorrow. Before leaving both of them to their game plan, Coran went around the room once more to check up on everyone. The rambunctious man dismissed the group one at a time, then gave both Keith and Lance a loud wink before skipping out of the room, brown buckled sandals clapping against the floor and white doctor’s coat fluttering behind him.

Now that they were finally alone, the situation was sinking in fast. Shit, does Keith bring him home to his place? He couldn’t do that, Shiro slept there. Then he would go to Lance’s place. Would Lance be comfortable with that? Would he even want that?! The tugging on his sleeve pulled Keith out of his inner turmoil. Lance wasn’t looking at him, but he could see the small upturn of his lips and his feet shifting in place.

“H-how do you want to do this?”

“Uh, well, whatever you’re comfortable with. One of us is going to have to...grab...extra clothes…” Keith’s head was combusting from his own suggestive words. Pull it together, Keith! When he didn’t get an answer right away, he waited a little longer before saying, “Let’s go, we’ll figure it out after a small treat.”

Improvising was what saved Keith numerous times in the ring, but he never thought he would be using that skill with Lance. In fact, he was tying it together with his instincts, and they were telling him to grab the man’s hands, lace them together with his and guide him safely through the building to gather their things before leaving the premises. So that’s exactly what Keith did. He gingerly slipped his hand into Lance’s then tenderly guided him out of the lounge towards the massage room where they had left their things. Keith let go of Lance’s hand so that he could slip his coat on and his messenger bag over his shoulder while Keith did the same.

When their hands were laced back together again, they walked through the training room and passed Pidge’s desk. Shiro waved them off from the caged ringside, while Hunk and Pidge wished them a nice day, reminding them to stay together until qualifiers. Their encouragement embarrassed them, so they hastily exited the gym and began their long silent walk. Keith had a destination in mind to cheer Lance up before they decided on whose home to stay in. Just thinking about it made Keith nervous with contained excitement.

The two men stopped by the closest city park, and Keith guided Lance until they reached the center. Half the park trails were paved while the other half was gravel. Trees had been manually planted creating a strangely symmetrical forest around the park. Benches lined the paths and people were scattered everywhere: some used the benches, others were having picnics, and a few were sitting near the small fountain at the center of the park. Keith ignored all of this and went straight to the lonely food stand stationed near the bathrooms. As Keith ordered at the window, he felt Lance escape his hand then switched to holding onto his gym bag and resting his forehead against the center of Keith’s back. The action surprised Keith, and he did his best not to move too much; Lance still had a tiny concussion. He was probably having a headache.

When he was done ordering, Keith guided Lance off to the side to wait for their food. The masseur’s head was still glued to Keith’s back and Lance had switched his hands to pinching the loose red sweater. The smell of perfectly seasoned food wafted up their noses before the cook inside the food stand announced their order. Keith said his thanks, snatched up the container, then had Lance following him to the edge of the fountain where they sat down to eat. Sitting down next to each other, Keith watched Lance peer into the container and began to drool.

“Are those...garlic knots?” Lance asked.

Keith nodded and held the box out to Lance so that he could reach for a few. They sat and ate with Keith giving up the last piece after seeing how Lance eyed the garlic knot like a dog waiting for a treat. The small dessert filled their stomachs, and it gave them time to settle on whose home they would be staying at. The plan was to stop by Keith’s apartment for extra clothes, and then they would be sleeping in Lance’s place. The thought alone made him nervous because there were a few obvious questions that popped into Keith’s head: what would they do for the next couple days and where would he sleep? The couch was the right answer, but he wouldn’t mind sharing a bed…

The warmth of another hand snapped him out of his thoughts. Lance had relaced his fingers with his and this time, the masseur guided Keith out of the park. Together the two men walked all the way to Keith’s apartment. Lance waited in the living room while Keith gathered his essentials, then they drove his car to Lance’s apartment. How Lance was able to get to Voltron Gym was a mystery, because it was quite far. Luckily, the apartment building was clean with a car garage attached to it.

The apartment building was like a house on stilts, with a red brick design for the garage and a white oak wall for the door. Right above the garage was the apartment itself, with black polish railings below each window and a lantern to match. Lance didn’t own a car, so Keith took his vacant spot in the garage. From inside the garage, they climbed the stairs that led straight into the building. The place was similar to Keith’s with the kitchenette conjoined with a large living room.

After listening to Lance’s story, Keith was surprised to see how lived in the apartment was. There were unwashed dishes in the sink, fresh fruit sitting in a wicker basket, and brewed coffee that had gone cold. In the living room area, there were pillows stacked on a single chair while several throw blankets were scattered across both the couches and the oak wood floor. The coffee table held open containers of mixed nuts and a valley of textbooks displaying the human anatomy and muscle groups. The most interesting thing though was a pair of old blue MMA gloves hanging on the only empty wall of the apartment. The seams along the leather had been torn and rubbed raw; even the emblem and the name of the sponsoring company had faded significantly. Seeing the torn equipment broke his heart and at the same time confused him.

“Welcome to my place.” Lance spread his arms out, interrupting Keith’s train of thought, “So...this is the living room. Kitchen’s over there, ah, let me show you where the bathroom is…”

The bathroom was just what Keith expected: it was organized chaos. The medicine cabinet was slightly ajar, so Keith could see facial creams, ointments, and other beauty products, while the sink had all the bottles that Lance occasionally used: face scrub, toothpaste, hand soap, and lotion. The bath was about the same size as his, except it had a seashell curtain. Cute. After being shown the bathroom, Lance showed him where his bedroom was. The queen size bed was made with dark blue comforters and white pillows. Scattered across the floor were various shirts and sweaters, probably from the morning scramble.

There was a short moment where Keith and Lance just stared at the queen size bed, leering at the problem that bit them in the face: who got the couch, who got the bed, can they even sleep together? Keith really hoped it would be the last one, but before he got to be a gentleman and volunteered to take the couch, Lance spoke up.

“Do you just want to watch movies for the rest of the day? I don’t feel like going outside.”

From the tone in the man’s voice, Keith could tell that Lance was tired and still shaken from the day’s earlier incidents. He only nodded his head, set his bag down in Lance’s bedroom, then followed the man back to the living room. The perfect seat in front of the flat screen was a small beige loveseat,the two cushions too close together, yet not close enough for Keith. Lance asked him if he was fine with takeout and when the man agreed, Lance gave him the remote and a choice between browsing the movies on his shelf or choosing something from the television. There were too many to choose from, but with how the day started, Keith thought they needed a good laugh. He chose comedy off the TV and the movie started playing.

Watching the masseur shuffle about the room was slowly becoming one of Keith’s favorite pastimes. A cell phone was tucked between Lance’s shoulder and ears. While the man was ordering their take out, he was picking up his mess sprinkled across the coffee table. Textbooks slapped closed, and every time Lance bent over to pick up the heavy books, Keith got an amazing view of his ass. Fitted jeans, nice rear. He snapped his eyes back on the TV when Lance turned around and walked towards the kitchen counter.

After sitting back down, the air shifted around them. Keith had wedged himself into the corner of the couch, a pillow softening the hard edge of the arm. He was sitting relaxed and very open, with his legs spread out, one arm draped across the back of the couch and the other holding up his head. Lance, on the other hand, was sitting near the middle with one leg bent and the other tuck underneath. There was the faintest brush of shoes touching the side of his knee. The minimum contact was driving Keith crazy because he desperately wanted to lean in closer, but he contained himself.

“Sorry I didn’t want to go out.” Keith looked at Lance seeing how the other man’s eyes were trained on the screen before them, “I just feel safer here, is all.”

Keith hummed, “I understand. I’d rather you feel safe than go outside and constantly look over your shoulder.”

Lance pulled his knee closer with his hands, “Everything sucks. There’s really nothing to do…”

Nothing to do? Keith had a response ready, but then he saw that Lance was looking at him. His body position stayed the same, but his head was fully turned and he was biting his lower lip. They were a nice shade of pink and the area around the tooth biting into his skin was cherry red. Keith wondered if they were soft, and the idea made him lick his own tastefully. The atmosphere became charged, and Keith could see a strange glint in the man’s eyes. The black of Lance’s pupils looked as if a camera lens was focusing on him, flickering from one eye to the other and then down to his mouth. Something was pulling Keith forward and it really clicked when he saw Lance’s nostrils flare and his chest rise a bit faster.

Never leaving their designated positions, the two of them leaned forward and kissed. The initial brush of lips was quick, but they stayed connected a moment longer to bask in the heat before pulling back and resuming their positions. The movie before them was still playing and rambunctious music was playing in the background. The characters were talking to each other, but Keith didn’t care. He couldn’t focus. Seconds ticked by, a few more scenes flew across the screen, and there was an awkward cough that quivered against the thick atmosphere.

The heady mood shattered and escalated when both men moved in at the same time. Keith rushed forward and cupped the back of Lance’s head, pulling him in for another intense kiss. In response, Lance gripped Keith’s wrists then felt down his forearms until they reached his chest. Fuck, his mouth was soft and warm, and it made him hungry. Keith worried for a second that he was too forward, starting to make out with a guy who just had a frightening encounter with the mob. But it was already happening. The first kiss was a catalyst to more, and the second had Keith pushing Lance backwards into the couch. The weight of his body made Lance’s breathing hard, causing the masseur to thrust his hips up and groan as he twisted his leg around Keith’s. The more they touched, the more it felt like millions of champagne bubbles dancing across their bodies. When Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s neck and rubbed his body up against his, he felt like he knocked back a shot of Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey; it burned in the best of ways.

The spark of attraction that burned like inferno was quickly snuffed out when there was a loud rapping knock against Lance’s front door. Keith pulled back an inch, flattening his hands against the sofa’s cushion on either side of Lance’s head. Their kiss stopped, and the sound of the knocking started again. Reality had quickly seeped back into both men as Keith scrambled backwards, and Lance jumped off the couch to race towards the door. In front of Keith, the movie credits were rolling, and somewhere off to the side was Lance paying the delivery man flustered and hurried. When Lance came back with a plastic bag filled with takeout food, he handed Keith the remote again.

“New movie?” Lance voice cracked and his face was red beyond embarrassment.

Keith coughed awkwardly, “Y-yeah, sure.”

Nothing was computing because that was the hottest fucking kiss Keith ever had. Lance’s lips, his legs, his body, everything about him had Keith in knots and wanting more. Just getting that succulent taste made his hunger that more intense. He was so busy trying his hardest to put the brakes on that he didn’t remember what movie he put on, or what food he was stuffing into his mouth. All he knew was that there was a hint of something sweet and spicy, and the movie had a lot of fighting and a couple steamy scenes. Not once did the tense mood disappear, but the two men did stay silent as they watched a particularly racy sex scene unroll.

So much sweat, and so much tangled limbs, Keith was getting uncomfortable in his pants and he could tell it was the same for Lance from how often he was shifting. Wicked ideas were filling his head and when he finally finished his portion of the takeout, he leaned back against the couch and stretched his arm out in a casual manner. Unfortunately for him, Lance got up from his spot on the couch. He supposed it wasn’t a complete loss because the masseur was bending over once again to clean the coffee table of their takeout boxes. Moments later, the lanky man disappeared behind the couch and into the kitchen to dispose of their dinner.

The day was filled with surprises because as soon as Lance returned to the living room, he straddled Keith’s spread thighs and pulled him in for a crushing kiss. Fingers entangled his hair and he groaned into Lance’s busy mouth when they gently pulled. Keith slid his hands to Lance’s hips and yanked him forward, thrusting his pelvis up at the same time. A startled whine escaped the man above him and the sound fueled him. He couldn’t get enough. Keith hooked one arm underneath Lance, then used his second arm to help him push off the couch. The movement caused the sofa’s legs to screech across the oak floors, and he swiftly scooped the man up into his arms.

Lines blurred as Keith carried Lance across the small distance of the living room before perching him on the kitchenette’s counter. The sudden movement caused the fruit basket to tip over, scattering apples, avocados, and bananas across the apartment. What was happening? What was this? Keith used his feet to pull off his shoes, while Lance absently kicked off his. They released each other for only a minute to remove some more clothes. Keith crossed his arms and pulled his red sweater over his head, making his t-shirt hike up high against his torso. Lance did the same, tearing off his jacket and accidentally getting his limbs tangled in his clothing. It gave Keith the opportunity to dive back in, and when Lance finally freed himself from the offending clothing, he began to claw at Keith’s back trying to pull his shirt off like a crazed animal.

The clothes could wait, because Keith couldn’t get enough of the man who had his legs wrapped around his body. His shirt was riding high, getting caught under his armpits and stretching dangerously each time Lance tugged with frustration. A bit worried about ripping his clothing, he relented and ended up pulling the shirt off himself before continuing his little journey. Keith nibbled Lance’s ear, trailed kisses down his neck and pulled open the button up shirt to suck marks into the other’s collarbone. From there, the buttons were quickly undone, being nearly ripped off as Keith continued to kiss down the man’s middle.

Hands traced up Lance’s sides and as Keith reached further back he felt something. The flesh seemed softer, tender and raised...the scar. The fighter froze and looked straight into the other man’s eyes seeking out any discomfort, but all he found was a wild lust. In all honesty, Keith was curious how the scar looked and if the scar felt this soft everywhere, then he wanted to run his hands across it and trace everything. It was a part of Lance. Just to be sure, Keith spoke up and asked permission.

“Bedroom?” He asked.

Lance whined breathlessly, “Fuck, yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, this chapter was getting long! Smut will continue into the next chapter. I have one more week until I'm able to take a vacation, so don't worry if I end up disappearing for another two weeks or something. Sorry again. Also, if you have any requests for the steamy chapter go ahead and tell me (I have some ideas of my own because it will be soft, but let me hear from you because there will be more scenes in the future). Thanks again!


	6. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tender/Rough Smut. Lance is shown love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will never get over the embarrassment of writing smut. I don't even think it's that good compared to my other steamy scenes...but then again, I don't think any of them are good. So I guess that means I should practice writing more? Oh boy. I'm so sorry that it's shorter than my previous chapters (I got nervous). Anyways, this chapter is full on NSFW...whatever you call it. Thanks for the views, comments, and kudos!

The first kiss was instant and quick. It was like sampling a flavor in an ice cream parlor and damn did Lance like this flavor. The second time they came together was delicious and Lance secretly cursed the delivery man for interrupting them. Now that he got a sample of what could happen, Lance was hooked. He’d be damned if he didn’t get more of Keith. Choosing to be bold was the right decision. He felt sexy when he swung his leg over Keith’s lap and dived in. Now look where it got him: in the bedroom, softly shaking from pleasure, and trapped beneath a beastly, grizzled man. Every muscle in his body was confused, tightening from sudden stimulation, then relaxing because Keith was an evil teasing predator. It was driving Lance insane, but he loved it all the same.

The two men had somehow gone from the kitchen counter to his bedroom, discarding clothing alone the way and leaving an obvious trail of their dirty deeds. All that remained was Lance’s dress shirt, unbuttoned, and barely clinging to one shoulder. He had secretly hoped that he could keep his dress shirt on because he was still self-conscious about his scar. But then Keith was kissing at his shoulder and using his hands to smooth away the fabric.

“W-wait,” Lance’s voice was hoarse from breathing heavily, “My shirt...let me keep my shirt…”

Keith seemed to understand that it wasn’t a request, it was a demand, “Anything for you…”

Strong, warm arms encircled his waist before they both fell against the mattress. Lance was held close as Keith kissed him like a parched man, creating a trail down his jaw and neck, sucking deep marks into his collarbone, and then across his chest. Oh man, he could feel Keith’s length against his skin. Fuck, was he bigger? Every touch felt like cinders. Lance sighed whenever the man above him was tender, and he twitched when Keith found a sensitive spot. It was a dead giveaway. He was being toyed with.

“Please...oh god, please.” Lance groaned quietly as Keith kissed the delicate skin along his hip.

There were hands rubbing up and down his sides until they slipped underneath him. Lance squeaked embarrassingly when Keith’s hands cupped both cheeks and squeezed. But he quickly forgot the man’s brazen move in favor of the soft lips that brushed against his member. He twisted his head away, biting his lip to stifle a groan. They were supple against his cock, and he gripped into the sheets, moaning sweetly when he felt something hot and wet dragging against him. With enough control, Lance glanced down to find Keith licking up his girth and wrapping his mouth around the head.

Heat coiled inside him, and Lance nearly screamed when he felt Keith’s mouth envelope him entirely. The sudden burst of sensation caused his hips to buck. Lance wanted more and his legs naturally fell open. Every dip pulled his body tighter and tighter until he was panting and begging. Keith went on for awhile until his tongue dragged up and his lips popped off the head of Lance’s cock. The cold air hit his length making Lance squirm helplessly.

“Look at you,” Keith pulled back still cupping Lance’s ass and grinning like an idiot, “Such a hot mess.” Lance liked when Keith talked. The man didn’t do enough of it.

Soon, Keith was resuming his journey, exploring more of Lance’s body until he got greedy and began picking at the dress shirt again. Trying not to ruin the mood, Lance moved Keith’s wandering hands away, but they quickly came back. Rough palms ran over his nipples, almost painful and causing Lance’s moans to fill the quiet space of his bedroom. Keith dipped down, biting and sucking one side, then the other. It was a painfully fantastic sensation, and Lance arched into him. Keith’s hands raked up towards his shoulders to slip the last piece of clothing off.

“Don’t ever be shy with me.” Keith paused, murmuring into Lance’s ear. He was rubbing one thumb into his shoulder while the other caressed his waist, “You have the most incredible body and I want to see all of you…” He softly kissed Lance’s collarbone and followed the line until he reached a naked shoulder, “Please?”

Lance was nervous and scared, and at the same time he wanted Keith to accept him, “I-It’s not exactly beautiful…”

The man above him knew what he was referring to, “But it’s a part of you. I’ll say it again: I want to see all of you.” Keith leaned down and kissed his temple then over his eyelids, “My body isn’t exactly beautiful either—”

“Liar.”

“Hypocrite.”

Lance huffed frustrated. Keith was a liar because his body was amazing, and oh man was it appealing to look at. The best part was that the man’s muscles weren’t just for show, he used them. Even the triceps muscles people usually forget about were tight and hard from Keith’s daily full body workout. Lance roamed the body above him, not shying away from his obvious trail he was making with his eyes. Nicks and other blemishes marred Keith’s skin, and there were even a few discolorations where old scars had healed. There was a large scar coming up from under his cheek, one along his shoulder, another across his abdomen, and a medium sized one close to his hip bone. Lance’s roaming was interrupted by Keith’s warming tone.

“What’s this one from?” Keith was tracing a finger along his brow.

“Head butt.”

Keith leaned down and kissed the scar that lightly interrupted that eyebrow. He pointed to the next one tracing under his shoulder, “This one?”

“Separated shoulder repair.”

The man leaned over it and kissed it, then pointed to a new scar and asked again, “This one?”

“A-Appendicitis.”

The charade continued and each time Keith asked about a scar he would softly kiss that area, even if Lance couldn’t croak out his words. He was lost in the feeling and never realized that Keith had flipped him over and removed his dress shirt. It was only when he felt warmth that sprinkled along his back did Lance grasp what was happening: Keith was kissing his burn scar...and he could feel everything.

The sensitivity was overwhelming. He thought he couldn’t feel anymore, but those tenderly heated kisses trailing down his spine were real. One particular spot got his attention, and Lance groaned straight into his mattress. His toes curled and he desperately clung to the loose sheets he had crumpled.

“They look like wings, you know.”

Lance peeked over his shoulder. He could feel his eyes watering. His chest was tightening because, really, wings? Keith’s expression was something he had seen before. It was like the first time they met, with Keith fighting in the ring and Lance standing above him, and the other time they ran into each other in the hallway. It was the same expression Keith carried when they went to lunch, and similar to this morning when Keith asked him to grab coffee. Affection, fondness, wonder, yearning...passion.

“I-Idiot…” Lance’s voice wobbled as he quietly sobbed into his comforter, “Only you would think that.”

Keith lightly chuckled and continued to kiss and touch, “Bet you were an angel in a past life.”

“You corny bastard, stop making me cry!”

“Sure about that?”

Pressure caught Lance by surprise and he cried out, breathing hard and grinding into the mattress. Keith had his thumbs pressed into the Apollo Dimples just below his burn scar. But before Lance could put more pressure on his raging hard on, rough hands gripped hard into his hips, pulling him back and up onto his knees. The same hands groped his ass hard before prying them apart and exposing him to the intoxicating air. Everything seemed to stop, but the grip on his ass was bruising.

“You okay with this?”

Lance grit out his next words threateningly, “Stop fucking teasing me, or I’ll headlock you!”

Keith clicked his tongue playfully, “Tempting.”

“What—” Firm wetness slid across his hole, and Lance yelped.

Too strong, oh god, too hot. Between his thighs, his cock jumped and it was starting to bead. Keith had started to eat him out. Lance was so lost that the sucking sensation made him wail and desperately claw at his sheets. Even with his body’s attempt to pull away, the tight hold on his hips held fast. Keith wasn’t about to let Lance go; he was locked in and trapped against a flexible tongue splitting him open, teasing his rim.

“Oh, oh god…” Lance bit down on his lip, trying to catch the drool escaping his mouth.

Thumbs were pressing closer to his rim, spreading his hole a little wider so Keith’s tongue could sink in deeper. Lance’s eyes squeezed shut, burning the feeling into his memory. He knows for sure that his body will remember, especially with how heavy his cock and balls were hanging between his thighs. The tongue was wiggling, squirming as far as possible, then slipping back out. Lance could feel teeth on and off against his skin, making him shiver. He barely registered the next words coming out of Keith’s mouth.

“I should have asked this first, but…” Keith began to rub at his waist gently, “I really hope you have lube and condoms somewhere.” He kissed the center of Lance’s back, “Want you so bad right now.”

“F-fuck!” Lance’s toes were digging into the bed. He waves his hand absently, “N-nightstand...there should b-be some—ah!” Lance arches and nearly jumps up from Keith’s tongue back inside him.

For how long the shattering experience continued, Lance didn’t know. But he did count how many times he came close to releasing, only for Keith to pull away. Maybe right now he couldn’t think or form a plan, but he would absolutely have his revenge. Lance finally got a break when Keith pulled away to retrieve the lube and condoms from the nightstand next to his queen size mattress. He felt worn out and he was panting so hard that he could feel his throat parched and raspy. Collapsed against the sheets, Lance was absently grinding down to try and find relief. His cock throbbed and he could feel strands of his hair sticking to his forehead and neck.

Lance felt like he was going to black out, and they haven’t even gotten to the real show. Everything that happened so far was foreplay. Did he really lose all his stamina because he neglected his training? Maybe he should go back to working out...maybe he should exercise with Keith. Now that was a thought: stretching, pumping iron, then practicing grappling technique in the ring. Something for tomorrow.

The bed dipped when Keith came back and immediately got busy. Quick, efficient, and ever so careful, the man behind him pulled him back up on his knees and began to work Lance open. The lubricant had been warmed before he felt a single digit circling his hole. When Keith finally pushed, it wasn’t deep; only enough to breach the rim before pulling out and dipping his finger back in, teasing the ring of muscles until they loosened up. The feeling was amazing, and at the same time, nerve-wracking.

While a single finger dipped further into his ass, Keith was kissing his back, paying special attention to both his scar and the dimples. It made Lance feel like he was nowhere and everywhere at once. It was a wonder how Lance had kept himself from babbling nonsense until now.

“Yes, oh god, Keith, please,” Lance moaned and pushed back against those fingers, “H-harder...deeper, please—” He gasped when a second finger nudged his entrance.

“Just a little more,” Keith promised, “I want you nice and open so you can enjoy it.”

After the sweet torment Lance had suffered, he finally heard the familiar sound of a foil packet ripping. It was a conversation he was glad they didn’t have to have. Still, the anticipation was driving him to some carnal place of need that he didn’t know existed. Lance wanted him, everything inside him. It was as if Keith read his mind. 

No restraint, they both cried out on the first stroke. Lance was shocked and slightly mortified as Keith filled him to the hilt. The pure pleasure of being joined and full was overpowering, and Lance could feel his entire body tingle and vibrate.

“You feel...perfect,” Keith groaned out, “Fuck, so good.”

No more words. Keith pulled his hips back until he was almost out. Lance had assumed that after all the tenderness and attentive care he received in the beginning, Keith would be the same during the main course. He was remarkably wrong. It was so much better. If Lance had anything to compare it to, it would be the way Keith fought in the ring: rough, brutal, powerful, fast, but most of all, like beast driven by instinct.

There was a string inside Lance that pulled tighter and tighter with each stroke that was made. He was pretty sure his hips had bruises forming from how harshly Keith was gripping into him. In fact, Lance’s body was completely limp. The man behind him was controlling everything, from snapping his pelvis forward to pulling Lance’s hips back. The sound was erotically lewd and it made Lance drool as he weakly cried out. He could only hang on and receive the delicious sensations Keith was igniting all over his body.

“I-I can’t hold on much longer.” Lance whispered. His knees were sore, but his entire body was quivering in delight.

Keith breathed hard and pressed his chest into Lance’s back, “I’ve got you. No need to hold on.”

The angle changed and Keith increased his motion, tilting his hips—oh dear god, that was it. Lance leaned all his weight into one arm, then reached down with the other and began to stroke himself. He matched Keith’s erratic pattern. Soon enough, a powerful spasm racked his body; an incredible pleasure rolling over him that he’d never dreamed existed.

Above him, Keith was growling. No audible words were coming from his throat, just a growl, deep and primal. His moan was predatory, almost a roar, that Lance knew meant Keith was feeling the same way he was: untamed and speechless. The inside of his ass felt used and strange warmth filled him. It clicked that Keith was coming inside the condom, but it was so hot that Lance could feel it.

Panting filled the silence as the two men let their satisfaction settle. After taking a moment to themselves, Keith pulled out. Lance gasped one last time, feeling his hole pop and his pucker trying to close back up. He collapsed against his bed, face buried into the corner of a pillow and comforter puffed up around him. Lance was sure Keith tied off the condom and threw it in the bathroom, because the man came back with a wet cloth. 

“Feeling okay?” Keith asked as he wiped down the sweat between the other’s thighs.

Lance hummed satisfied, “Oh yeah. So good.”

When the sweat was all wiped away, Lance felt hands pull at his waist once more. For a few moments, Lance panicked, thinking Keith was about to go for round two. But then he felt thick forearms wrap around him and his back pressed up against a firm chest. Lips tenderly kissed at the nape of his neck before a nose brushed against his scalp.

“Goodnight.” Keith mumbled.

“No, not yet.” Lance whimpered and he weakly smacked at the arms around him.

The man behind him sat up confused, caging Lance below him. Keith’s brow scrunched up and his eyes were twinkling with mischief. He could feel a new heat emitting from the animal above him. Curiously, Lance peeked down and groaned quietly when he saw a cock hanging heavy and proud. Next time, Lance thought. Next time.

Lance pushed against Keith’s chest, “Not that you meathead! I need to lock up my home.”

Understanding Lance’s intentions, Keith rolled out of the way. Exhaustion pulled on his limbs, but Lance shook it off and pried himself from the bed. When he stood up, his legs gave beneath him and his ass crashed against the hard carpet. It stung, but the fact that he couldn’t walk satisfied him on some hidden level. Behind him was a snort and a snicker.

Keith had his hands cupped behind his head, relaxed and arrogant, “You’re like a little fawn.”

That sassy little nothing; Lance said the exact same thing to Keith after his first massage! Lance huffed, ignoring Keith’s sarcastic comment. He struggled to stand back up and he could visibly see his legs shaking and vibrating from lingering pleasure and fatigue. Walking slowly through his apartment, he made sure all the windows were locked and his front door was secured.

“I like seeing your legs shake like that—”

Lance yelped, bracing himself against the wall before shooting his eyes up. Keith was leaning against the adjacent wall, naked as ever. His forearms were really pushing against his pectorals and the picture was a blessing. Lance bet he could make a calendar with pictures of Keith, just like those skimpy forbidden firefighter calendars Allura would buy him every year.

The man pushed off the wall and walked towards Lance, “Seeing you like this makes me want to fuck you silly.”

Lance sucked in a breath, “As amazing as that sounds, not tonight.”

“Tomorrow then.”

Before he could argue, Keith scooped him up in his arms. It was embarrassing being carried, but Lance secretly loved it. As Keith walked back to the bedroom, he stopped at every light switch so Lance could turn them off. They fell back into bed with Keith pulling Lance close and sheets pooling around their waists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so hesitant spelling out certain words because I DON'T LIVE ALONE! What if someone looked over my shoulder?! Anyways, next chapter is a free day for our MMA Fighter and our Masseur. That means one more day until qualifiers. Stay tuned for the next chapter! Also one more thing: I am willing to take requests ( AUs and stuff) but only if I run out of ideas. Should I have an Instagram for this? I want people to be able to message me without spamming my email. Please don't say Twitter or Tumblr (I tried and I got confused with everything.) See you next time!


	7. Crisis Averted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward mornings and a free day at the gym.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up skipping that one week of posting. Oops. So. I have a lot to say and I'm gonna try and make it short. I already have an Instagram page, but it's private and meant for family and friends (my plan was to make a separate one so my readers would know when the next update was coming.) I don't post pictures often and I usually look around my feed. That's when I saw it...the most beautifully drawn art of boxer Lance and boxer Keith by halosketches. Then I saw Redfox_Raine mentioned in the comments and I nearly cried. You guys/gals are so amazing. I don't know if the art came before my story but it was absolutely amazing and I loved it so much. Thank you so much for the comments, the views, and the kudos!

Never again. Never, never, never, again. Lance was viciously pacing back and forth in his kitchen. The stove top was cooking fresh egg whites, while there were pieces of bread in the toaster. The reality of his situation was slapping him across the face, and he never felt so ashamed. Lance slept with Keith; he had sex with a client. Sure last night was glorious, and it had been so long since he felt so loved, but everything about this was wrong!

Lance leaned back against the counter and let out an enormous sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling on a couple strands. Half an hour ago, he was a tangled mess between the sheets and pressed up against a hot body. Slipping out was fairly easily, and his first thought was to cook the two of them breakfast. But after having a quiet moment to himself, the situation came crashing down and Lance didn’t want to face the awkwardness.

Years of no intimacy and this is what happens: he gets into bed with the first guy who is interested in him? Oh god, what’s Keith going to think of him? Lance slid down to the kitchen floor, still clutching his hair and whining quietly. He didn’t want a one-time thing, but he completely went out of order! It’s supposed to be friends, then dating, then the damn bed!

The toaster snapped and a loud ding resonated through the apartment. Lance shot up off the floor and waved his hands wildly as if to disperse the booming sound. It echoed and inside the toaster, the bread had turned black and charred. Defeated with his nerves on edge, Lance picked the burnt bread from the rack and replaced them with fresh pieces. He attended to the egg whites in the frying pan, trying his best to forget about the man lying in his bed.

“Something smells burnt.”

Lance yelped and the frying pan crashed against the stove top. He flailed backwards and covered his mouth to attempt to hide his startled appearance. Standing at the entrance of the kitchen in a fresh pair of running shorts and a shirt was Keith. The loud metallic sound had woken both men up and Keith was on high alert. His knees were bent and one hand was stretched out as if he were trying to make a barrier. His wild unbrushed hair only added to his disheveled ensemble.

“I’m sorry! Oh god, I didn’t mean to scare you like that!” Keith blurted out his words, trying to step closer to Lance to see if he was fine.

Lance wiped his hands up his face and around the back of his head, “It’s okay! I-I was just...lost in thought.” He fixed his faded blue sweater, pulling it lower to cover his old MMA boardshorts, “Take a seat. Breakfast is almost ready.”

The other man nodded stiffly and walked around the counter to sit on a high stool. Lance could see that something was wrong with Keith. Nothing about his movements were fluid like usual. His arms swung in an unusual pattern, and when he sat down, his hands were kept underneath the counter. Perhaps he was just as nervous as Lance. If so, then maybe Keith thought last night was a mistake.

Metal clicked against the stove top as Lance adjusted the frying pan once more. Next to him the toaster rang out again, and this time the bread didn’t burn. Two plates were pulled out of the cupboard, and Lance laid their breakfast out. He set the plates on the counter top, then rummaged through his refrigerator for yogurt and a light drink for his guest. When everything was prepared, Lance slid one plate across the counter for Keith. He stayed on his side, too nervous to sit down and eat properly. Each bite from the toast made the air crackle painfully. The sound of the forks scraping against ceramic plates made Lance’s toes curl. The silence between the two men was suffocating. They kept both their eyes locked on their light breakfast, chewing their lips nervously. 

“What we did last night was—”

“It was stupid.” Lance confessed.

Keith snorted and smiled, “So stupid. I mean, don’t get me wrong,” He put his fork down and placed both his elbows on the counter, “It was amazing, and I loved every second of it.”

Lance looked away coly, leaning forward and cradling his forehead in his hands, “Oh my—you were beyond amazing, and I haven’t felt that way in so long.” He looked up and saw how happy and nervous the other man was, “But, y-yeah; last night was crazy and stupid.”

“I-I mean, what were we thinking!” Keith laughed and Lance joined in.

The heavy weight was taken off Lance’s shoulder and the worry was no longer weighing on his mind. But their short exchange seemed like it wasn’t enough of an explanation. Lance wanted to give Keith the truth. So, he leaned forward, a little closer to Keith, and laced his fingers together with the other man.

“W-while we’re on this topic...I just wanted to say that I’m going through a hard time here…” Lance absently played with Keith’s calloused fingers while he put his thoughts together, “What with the Galra and interacting with a sport so close to my past…” He pulled back and straightened himself to finish up his thoughts, “Anyways, last night meant a lot to me—I guess what I’m trying to say is: thanks.”

Something felt sweeter after Lance finished his thoughts. He watched as Keith stood up and walked around the counter, their eyes still locked together. Strong arms looped around his waist and pulled him close. Lance naturally circled his arms around Keith’s neck to return the hug. They stayed like that for a while longer before separating.

Keith cupped Lance’s cheek and said, “Last night meant a lot to me too, and it wasn’t because I was in a bad place or anything. It meant a lot because…” Keith stated his next words blankly, “You’re really hot.”

Lance wheezed and began to chuckle, snorting and trying to hold back an even bigger laugh. Keith smiled along with Lance and gave a small chuckle as well. With the heavy situation dispelled, Keith made sure that Lance was okay with everything. The man nodded and together they cleaned up the kitchen and got ready for Voltron Gym. Keith had grabbed his duffel, while Lance snatched his messenger bag, packing training shorts and some equipment.

Yesterday’s incident with Sendak and Haxus forced him to reflect on his current physique. Lance wanted to return to his peak condition before he was involved with the Galra. Returning to tournament participation wasn’t the end goal for him, but he definitely wanted the energy, and the feeling of being a little healthier. It sounded like an excuse, and maybe he was lying to himself, but having this reason was better than doing nothing, especially while the rest of Voltron Gym fought for him. Plus it would give him something to do on his day off.

It didn’t take long for the two men to arrive at the gym. When they entered, both Pidge and Shiro blocked their way, making sure that they understood that this day would be a free day. No work, no worries...except for Keith. The coach wanted him to at least continue with his usual workout, but to tone down the intensity. They both understood and went their separate ways. Shiro went back to coaching the pair sparring in the hexagon shaped cage, Keith walked to the locker rooms to change, and Pidge pulled Lance aside. She seemed happy.

“How did it go yesterday?” Pidge asked excitedly.

“W-what are you talking about?!” Lance squeaked and reeled back to get away from the question.

Did Pidge know already? Was sex just written all over his face or something? He really hoped not, and he also hoped that Keith didn’t blurt it out to anyone. Lance wasn’t big on sharing the details of his relationship, much less the intimate part. His eyes flicked around the room and they zeroed in on Keith walking out of the locker room, wearing athletic pants and a tank top. With every fiber of his being, Lance willed Keith to look in his direction. He needed help.

Pidge crossed her arms and answered Lance’s question, “I’m talking about you and Keith. Did you go out yesterday? Or maybe you went out to dinner?”

“We stayed in!” Lance yelled, then he brought his voice down and repeated himself, “We stayed in. I wasn’t comfortable going out, so we watched movies and ordered some take-out.”

Pidge hummed and nodded her head in approval, “Good, good. Logically, Keith was the right choice, but him being interested was just a bonus.”

A very big bonus, Lance thought, then sheepishly asked his next question, “Why were you asking about us?”

Pidge waved a hand through the air as if to dismiss the topic, “I wasn’t interrogating you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She turned and motioned for Lance to follow her to the receptionist desk, “Keith can be friendly, but he usually keeps to himself. He’s...a quiet guy.” Pidge plopped down in her desk chair and swirled around to face Lance, “What I’m trying to say, is that Keith values his connections, and I thought that you could be one more.”

“That’s…” Lance’s chest felt like it was being squeezed and at the same time he felt special, “Thank you. I-I’m not anything special, but thank you.”

The petite woman turned to her computer and started to type, “Well, I think that you’re an amazing person, and I don’t think you hear it enough...so there.”

One positive comment from Pidge, and suddenly he felt like crying. It was just one person after the other; first Keith and now Pidge. What did he do to deserve this? Lance bit down on the corner of his lip to stop the quivering feeling. His throat felt full and heavy and he could feel the brim of his eyes sting from the salty tears threatening to spill. All of this was making his head hurt a little, so he turned away from the receptionist to take deep breaths. Unfortunately, he couldn’t control the violent vibrations take came with each exhale.

“A-are you crying?” Pidge’s voice was soft and careful.

“No,” Lance whispered out, “I’m fine.”

Short arms wrapped around his waist and he could feel a face bury into his spine. Lance smiled to himself when he felt pin needles of warmth circulate up and down his scarred skin. It was pleasant, and he patted Pidge’s hands that were pressed against his torso. The universe must have been giving him a break. Last night, Keith was so gentle and loving, and now Pidge was giving him a compliment that meant more than she realized. When they separated, Pidge returned to her work and Lance turned his attention to the gym.

Being surrounded by fighters and gym members was intimidating. Lance was scared that he would somehow be discovered, even more so with the qualifiers approaching. Maybe his name would float around because of Altea’s advertising, or his face would be seen on camera during the league. Constant fear had plagued him, but now that Sendak and Haxus were arrested, he had room to breathe. It gave him the opportunity to prepare himself.

Years of fighting to survive had taught him to listen to his instincts, and they were telling him that the Galra were still present. Sendak and Haxus were only the beginning. Unfortunately, Lance still felt self-conscious about exercising around the other fighters. The feeling was incredibly prominent now that the others saw him knock out both Sendak and Haxus. Maybe there would be expectations, and he wouldn’t be able to meet them.

Limbs clapped against the bags all around the gym. There was shouting and grunting that echoed against the mismatched red bricks, and the banners above were shifting gently from the air conditioning. Lance was starting to rethink his idea. The muscled men and agile women were intimidating, and the atmosphere felt charged with the fight league drawing closer and closer. But wait, no one would stay past closing time...right? He could train then!

Lance scoped out the gym, looking for a familiar mess of tied up hair. Where was that gorgeous bastard? When he found Keith, Lance jogged over to him. He avoided the matted area where some participants were practicing grappling, and Lance circled around until he reached Keith. The man was using the leg extension machine, pulling his legs up before slowly lowering the weights. Small breathes were made, controlled and slow, each time he completed a rep. It was giving Lance a small flashback to last night, but he fanned away the thoughts. Instead, Lance stood next to Keith and tried his best to whisper his words over the sound of weights clinking against each other.

“How late is the gym closing today?” Lance whispered.

Keith grunted out his words while working, “Don’t...know. Depends on...Shiro.” He slowly dropped the weights on the machine and looked at Lance, “He works with everyone, one-on-one, to see if we’re ready for tomorrow. Why’d you ask?”

“Ah, w-well…” Lance darted his head back and forth to make sure no one was listening. When he was sure, Lance leaned in and whispered while he rubbed his hands nervously, “I wanted to start exercising again, but I’m not so sure now.” He looked down at his feet, “I don’t want people to watch. If feels like they’re expecting something?” Lance wasn’t sure about his last statement. There was more to it.

Keith unhooked his legs from the machine and rested against the chair, “It’s a gym. People are going to watch no matter what, and it’s mostly to make sure you use the equipment correctly.” The man shook his head in a disgruntled manner, “Trust me, I’ve seen Shiro and the others step in numerous times just to stop a guy from pulling a muscle. It saves you in the long run.”

“Can we exercise together?” Lance clasped his hands behind his back, never looking at Keith as he talked, “Shiro did say to tone down the intensity. Maybe you could...w-work with me today? If it’s not too much trouble.” Then maybe he would be so scared about messing up. It would look like Keith helping him learn.

“Yes—I mean, sure. Having a gym buddy makes things a lot better. Do you have extra clothes you can change into?” Keith asked quietly.

Lance nodded and fidgeted in place, “I have training shorts, but I don’t have a shirt. My old workout ones were bur...um, never mind.”

There were a mix of emotions that morphed Keith’s expression. Lance could see the confused curiosity, before it changed into something dark and menacing. It scared him and it reminded him of the intensity Keith displayed in the ring the first day they met. The savagery of the beast was only displayed for mere seconds before it was eased into something empathetic, and yet determined.

Keith pushed off his chair, “I’ll go get a shirt for you.”

The man walked off towards the lockers. Lance, on the other hand, pressed his hands against his mouth to prevent any more stupidity from flowing out. He didn’t finish the sentence, but it was very clear that he was implying that his old workout shirts had been burned. It wasn’t a very nice memory, none of them were. The Galra didn’t care for privacy and it had warped Lance in the strangest of ways. Don’t think about it now, Lance thought.

Instead of following Keith to the locker rooms, Lance opted for the massage room. It had a lock, it was his personal room, and he would rather change there. He didn’t want to risk changing and have someone see his old injury. He briskly walked away and the contents of his bag seemed heavier than a few minutes ago. Once inside, he quickly locked the door and rested his head against the frame. What he was about to do was a very large step, and it could go either right or very wrong. Still, he had to move on at some point.

The clothes he was currently wearing was stripped down and folded. He placed them in the closet next to the fresh towels. After that, he opened up his bag and pulled out everything: a grey pair of training shorts, a plastic bag holding his sneakers, black hand wrap tape, and the old blue MMA gloves he had collecting dust in his apartment. Lance could never bring himself to throw away the ratted old things, no matter how much it reminded him of the Galra. The equipment had bonded itself to him and kept him alive. It felt like throwing away a survival knife.

Lance rubbed at the raw material before setting it down on the counter. He grabbed his training shorts and pulled them on, then removed his socks. The cotton black hand wrap was picked up and Lance hooked the looped end of the wrap around his thumb. Wrapping was a melodic habit for him since he would have to do it himself. He wrapped the cotton strip around his wrist three times before bringing it up and around his thumb twice. At some point, he had blanked out and finished wrapping both hands and wrists. The tape felt secure and he flexed his fingers to check the mobility.

Somewhere inside, Lance knew that something was wrong. Seeing the same black hand wrap was making him sweat. He was slipping, but he couldn’t stop. The feet came next and there was a constant flow of coldness that crawled up his leg from touching the floor. There was a slow roar in his ears and it steadily grew louder until he recognized it as chanting. His surroundings looked darker than usual and when he finished wrapping both feet, he glimpsed the smallest movement at the corner of his eye...blood was dripping from his blue gloves.

Something in his head snapped when he heard knocking on the door. Lance looked up and remembered that he was in the massage room because he wanted privacy. His eyes darted over to his gloves to check them; no blood, and still torn up. Another wrap on the door had his head whipping his attention the other way to listen to whoever was on the other side. He felt like a starved predator, waiting for the next meal to walk out into the open. 

“Lance? You in there? It’s Keith, I got the shirt.”

Standing up on shaking legs, Lance shuffled over to the door and only opened it a crack. It was enough for Keith to squeeze through. He locked the door behind them, then turned around only to violently rip the shirt from Keith’s hands. There was maybe a small comment, but he didn’t know what. Lance just didn’t want to be exposed right now. When the shirt was hanging from his shoulders, he pressed his back up against the door and slid down to the floor.

“Whoa, Lance? Are you okay—how come you’re hands and feet are wrapped? We’re only exercising, nothing wild like jumping into the ring.”

Lance’s voice shook, “I don’t know. I put them on without thinking.” He looked at the hand wrap like it was dark magic.

Black shackles were cutting off his blood circulation. It jarred Lance and he began to search for the ends of the wrap. Panic rose inside his chest when he could find the end of the velcro. He could feel his fingers and his wrists felt stiff. Lance grew desperate and began to pull at the straps, clawing and failing to tear the cotton wrap from his wrists. The stale air was drying his mouth and causing his throat to itch. Fuck, why won’t they come off!

Before Lance could resort to something more violent, Keith entered his view. The man was kneeling down and gently grasping Lance’s wrist. He watched as Keith pulled the velcro up and carefully unwrapped the cotton strip. The movement was slow, but the tenderness gave Lance time to breathe and focus on the slow release. The pressure disappeared along with the first black hand wrap, then Keith moved on to the second one.

Lance was watching Keith as he unwrapped his second hand. There was a small frown crinkling the knot between his eyebrows, and his nose was scrunched up from concentrating. He could feel the faint bumps of calluses drift across his exposed skin, reminding him of who he was with. When the last wrap fell to the floor, Keith grabbed both of Lance’s hands with his own and rubbed his thumb along his wrists. They stayed like that for a few more moments, before Keith leaned back to sit down properly. His feet were next.

Unwrapping his ankles went a little faster. Lance had at least one of his feet resting atop Keith’s crossed legs. The sticky material ripped as the velcro was lifted, and Lance could see the red lines following the tape from wrapping it too tight. He waited quietly and patiently as Keith finished up both feet, expecting his thumbs to press down against his ankles like he did Lance’s wrists. But they didn’t. Instead, Lance was caught off guard and yelped when both his legs were yanked forward. His entire body slid forward and his thighs rested against Keith’s. The other man uncrossed his legs, then pulled Lance closer so that they were closer. An arm wrapped around his back while a hand pressed against the back of his head.

“Better?” Keith asked quietly. Lance nodded and returned the strange half hug.

“What do you want to do now?” Keith’s words tickled Lance’s ear, “We could stay here the rest of the day, or go home. If you’re up to it, we can still exercise; we’ll do whatever you want.”

There was a long pause before Lance was able to answer, “I still want to try.”

Keith hummed in acknowledgement. They stayed locked together for a while longer with Lance’s breathing evening out and Keith rubbing up and down his back. He could barely feel it, but he appreciated the gesture. When they were ready, Lance pulled his socks and shoes on. He doused his face in cold water to bring down whatever puffiness that may have appeared.

Walking out into the gym made Lance shrink a little. He stayed close to Keith as the man shuffled around the room, picking up equipment and spreading them out. Lance was confused at first by Keith’s actions, until he realized that he was making an obstacle course. There was a pair of thin fabric ladders stretched out before him. At the end of the ladder was a bag with the Voltron Gym’s logo near the top. After that was a pair of rolled up rope and a pair of dumbbells.

“We are going to do an obstacle course. I left out a lot of equipment since I don’t know where you’re at in strength and stamina.” Keith pointed to each item and explained what they were going to do, “Ladder’s first and we’ll be doing the carioca step. After that, five kicks to the bag, move on to ten skips in jump rope, then five push-ups to row. Finish that and do it in reverse.”

“A-are we going to race each other?” Lance asked. He felt nervous, but he was also curious.

Keith shrugged his shoulders, “We could make it a race if you want. How about loser has to do whatever the winner wants for one day?”

Before Lance could answer, another person answered in his stead. He turned around and found Shiro, Pidge, Regris, and a few other MMA Fighters standing together. Some of the men’s arms were crossed while others were grinning wildly from the smell of a bet. Maybe the obstacle course wasn’t a good idea after all. Lance was about to decline when Shiro spoke up.

“Mind if we join you two? We can extend the obstacle course and make it a tag team battle.” Shiro’s eyes sparkled from a potential challenge.

Was everyone in Voltron Gym just attracted to a challenge? Lance felt himself curl in slightly from all the eyes that settled on him. All the men and women seemed to find the obstacles interesting and it reminded Lance of a group of Rottweilers poorly attempting to beg. He could see it now: a group of stocky dogs sitting patiently and staring starry-eyed at Lance. The thought made him feel a little better. Maybe he wouldn’t stand out as much if it were a group of people.

“Okay,” Lance nodded his head nervously, “How do we split into teams?”

Shiro smiled and pointed with his thumb, “Leave that to Pidge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qualifiers are coming and all the MMA Fighters are participating.  
> I honestly don't know where I'm going to end this story, but I promise it's not going to be longer than maybe 15 chapters (definitely not 20, oh boy). Anyways, if I created an Instagram page for this writing, the best I would be doing is posting stories about my typing in progress. I rarely post on my main so nothing would really change. I'm still indecisive about it.


	8. Bold Rewards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The race begins, and a prize in demand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like any story I've written (fanfic and others), I always get the feeling of wanting to put the current story down to start a different one. Well not today, folks! Fair warning though...SMUT is in this chapter, or is it NSFW? Anyways, thank you for the comments, kudos, and views!

The MMA Fighters of Voltron Gym were trained Spartans. Their idea of an obstacle course was purely based on endurance and speed, and it was fashioned to pit the competing members against each other like a starving pack of wolves. The worst part was that they had overheard Keith’s suggestion to have a prize: loser would have to do whatever the winner wants for an entire day. It was tempting, and he could see every single participant eye a specific person. It put Keith on edge when he saw how many eyes ghosted over to Lance’s position. The masseur was the ultimate prize.

“Okay, I drew the names and placed them here on the white board.” Pidge capped the dry erase marker and tapped the board rested against a pillar, “Team One will have Regris, Lance, Shiro, Kolivan, and Antok. Team two has Matt, Keith, Ulaz, Thace, and myself.” Pidge crossed her arms and smiled at her work, “Everyone here is experienced except for myself and Lance, so I put our names on opposite teams to even the odds. Hopefully, it’ll work out.”

Hopefully, Keith thought. Had Lance been on his team, he would have made sure they won so the masseur wouldn’t be up for grabs. Instead, putting them on opposing teams made Keith’s mind go back and forth. He would gladly lose to Lance just so he could get an opportunity to see what the man really wanted to do. He wanted to see the bold side of the ex-fighter; there must have been some fire left in him. On the other hand, Keith so badly wanted to win, not only to prevent others from choosing Lance, but to do as he pleased. He licked his lips; his body clock was still stuck on last night’s time. That tight hot feeling got him worked up.

All the gear was set into place and the obstacles were positioned to make a circle. The Spartan Training Course was nothing to him, but he wondered if Lance would be able to get through it. He looked over to check on the man. Any panic or anxiety that had surfaced in the massage room was gone. The lanky man’s lips were pressed together in a strained smile, as if to hide his excitement...but he was still nervous. His stance was wide and his knees were bent; Lance was ready to run, but Keith didn’t know which direction: towards the beginning of the obstacle course or back to the safety of the massage room.

There was a loud clap and Keith looked up. Shiro was standing between both courses and pointing at the starting line, “Line up! Figure out who’s going first.”

No one argued when the first two competitors took their place. From Keith’s team, Ulaz confidently strode up to the front of their line. The man was about as tall as Kolivan, but was incredibly slim. Ulaz would surely be the one to finish first, but he wasn’t too sure when it came to strength. From the second team, Antok took his place next to Ulaz, stretching his large frame and loosening his muscles. It would be a close call. Antok had the strength to endure, and Ulaz had a thin frame built for speed.

Standing between the courses, Shiro nodded his head, satisfied with the choice, “Okay, are we ready?” The two men nodded their heads silently. Shiro raised his hand high, “Three, two, one...GO!” He whipped his arm down and the two men broke into a sprint.

Keith ignored them for the first half of the race, instead turning his attention to Lance. The masseur was waiting in line, peeking passed the shoulders of his teammates to watch. Still nervous, but intrigued by the display of power and speed. Keith felt proud of his friends and it made him happy that Lance wasn’t shying away from them as much as he did the first day. He walked over and tapped on the other’s shoulder.

“Who do you think will win: Antok or Ulaz?”

Lance looked from Keith to the men jumping around the course. He hummed and looked back to Keith, “I’m not sure. It is a race, so I would say Ulaz. But there’s a lot of strength involved, so I’m going to say Antok.”

There was a resounding smack that made both men’s heads whip up. Antok and Ulaz had just finished the course and tagged in the next two men: Kolivan and Thace. Both men’s physiques were about the same and they were evenly matched. Keith wished Lance luck as he strolled back to his line. He watched Kolivan and Thace sprint through the course, doing every obstacle with military finesse. Soon enough, both men tied for tagging in the next men in the lineup. Regris and Matt sprinted forward.

Spectators gathered, and a few of the patrons began to cheer for their preferred team. Keith shook arms and shoulders loose; it would be Lance and Pidge to go next, and it would end with him racing Shiro. Fitting, but also tense. Keith wanted to pay attention to how Lance ran the course and at the same time wanted to focus on Pidge so they could do the exchange fluidly. Decisions, decisions…

Matt was closing in a lot faster than Regris, and smacked Pidge’s hand to tag her in. The young woman ran, entering the first obstacle and dancing through the laid out ladder. Not far behind, Lance was finally tagged in and Keith was pleasantly surprised. Lance was quick. The carioca step was a breeze, and the low walls they had to climb over were nothing. What worried Keith the most though was the peg wall climb.

It was one of the many equipments that were challenging and brutal. It was a large wooden board that took up half the gym’s walls and there were deep holes that were evenly spaced throughout the entire thing. Two pegs were placed inside and the goal was to climb up and across using only your upper body. Not everyone could do it their first try, so they had a back up course. Pidge ended up doing the second option. Lance, on the other hand, shocked everyone.

One leap to grab onto the pegs, and Lance began to climb. There was a rhythm to it all and Keith immediately noticed that the man was purposely swinging his body back and forth to carry his momentum up. The cheering got louder, but the sideways climb was awkward. Even the descent made Keith bite his lip in anticipation because Lance’s rhythm was lost. But it was enough, and he watched as Lance dropped down from the pegs and pass Pidge. She yelled something in frustration before finishing her alternate course and chasing after the man.

Keith yelled and waved his hands as if it would bring Pidge closer to him. Losing was out of the question now; he wanted to win. God damn, did he want to win. Lance was the first to arrive and slapped Shiro’s hand as the signal to start. Just as their coach flew by, Pidge stumbled in and tagged Keith, yelling at him to run. He dug his toes into the floor and pushed off.

The carioca ladder, the high hurdles, everything was a blur, and his heart pulsed up to his eardrums. The peg climb made his entire arm burn and shake. When he finished and dropped to the floor, the soles of his feet pulsed violently from the impact. The pain made his knees buckle and hit the foam covered floor, but he forced himself to move. After the peg climb was a short sprint to a belly crawl. Keith worked double time, breathing through both his nose and his mouth to get more oxygen. When he got close to the low ropes, he dove under and crawled as fast as he could. Material rubbed against his back and snagged his clothing several times, but he ripped through. Keith sprung up from under the ropes and saw Shiro close behind him.

Everyone was cheering. He’s never heard Voltron Gym become this loud before. Just beyond the last obstacle were both teams, jumping and yelling their teammate’s names. Next to him, Shiro was roaring, and together they tackled the last trial: tire flipping. Both men lunged and squatted before the large tires, lifting with all their strength and turning the tire over. The heavy rubber slammed against the floor and bounced. Keith used the impact as an opportunity to hook his hands under the material and flip again. With the tire up right, the man pushed the monstrous wheel down to make it bounce again. The joints in his fingers felt stiff as he gripped the tire once more and flipped it a third time. But it wasn’t over yet.

With the third flip finished, Keith had to repeat the cycle and flip the enormous tire back into position. He was breathing harder when the fourth turn finished, and he struggled a bit when the fifth one came into play. Frustration sparked inside him and he roared as he finished the last turn, shoving the rubber material forward before he turned tail and made a break for the finish line. He carried himself through, running past his teammates to make sure he was fast from start to finish. When he finally slowed to a halt, several bodies collided against him.

“Hell yeah, we won!” Pidge was red in the face and smiling, yelling triumphantly in front of Keith.

The other men on his team surrounded him, cheering and smacking him on the back before hanging their arms across each other’s shoulders. Pidge had wrapped her arms around Keith’s neck, pulling him down as she vibrated with excitement. Meanwhile, the other team was shaking their heads with a small smile gracing their faces. They were clapping each other on the shoulders as well, resigning to their fate.

Once the two groups shook hands and congratulated each other, Pidge stepped forward to regulate the rules, “Alright, looks like we get the prize. Now seeing as it’s unfair for one person to have all that power, our team’s gonna do a quick huddle to decide who gets to boss who.”

The losing team made collective groans. Only Shiro and Lance were standing by with blank expressions. It seemed that they weren’t as fazed by their loss compared to the other men. If anything, Shiro had accepted defeat while Lance was confused as to how everything would turn out. As the crowd dispersed, Keith and the others moved out of earshot to decide on the pairs. Matt was the first to speak up.

“I get Lance.”

Keith snapped his eyes to Matt and crossed his arms, “Lance is mine.”

The two men stared at each other before they squint their eyes and frowned. Keith kept his arms crossed, knowing full well that it made him appear larger. Matt, on the other hand, placed his hands on his hips and leaned forward defiantly. He was pushing up into Keith’s personal space and it rubbed him the wrong way.

Matt tilted his head in a mocking manner, “You already got a massage and you hung out with him the entire day yesterday. You’re turn is done.”

“Back off, Matt.” Keith gritted out his words and dropped his arms.

No one was getting near Lance. It was selfish and possessive, but he felt like he needed to be for this moment. Loser had to do whatever the winner wanted as long as it was safe and within reason. Keith didn’t trust how the others were eyeing Lance, and he definitely didn’t like how fast Matt staked a claim on the masseur.

Keith held his glare and he felt his face boil with hidden rage. Matt narrowed his eyes in annoyance and each time he stepped forward to challenge Keith’s demeanor, he responded in kind and repeated Matt’s actions. Soon both men were bumping chests, and Matt was the first to make a move. A hot sweaty forehead pressed up against Keith’s and began to push. They were butting heads now, bruising themselves and keeping their eyes locked on each other.

“Stop it you two!” Pidge got in between both men and lightly slapped the back of their heads, “You’re acting like children. Keith is staying with Lance and that’s final!”

Matt’s mouth floundered before shouting, “But Pidge—”

“Don’t ‘but Pidge’ me! I know that you just want a free spa day, but Lance’s contract with Voltron Gym nullifies that. Besides, you’ll be too busy to actually claim the prize.” The young woman huffed and commented, “Be practical.”

Matt straightened up and glanced over to the defeated group of men, then said, “You’re right. Any of the guys can help me at work…” Matt rubbed his chin then answered, “I’ll take Shiro. Then I can finally look at that arm of his.” The man licked his lips and rubbed his hands together, itching to disassemble the prosthetic.

Pidge hummed and nodded her head, “Three left. Now if you boys don’t mind, I’ll be taking Antok.” Everyone raised their eyebrows, confused by the receptionists’ choice. She shrugged, “He’s the tallest and the largest. I’m putting him to work.”

They came to an agreement, and each person chose their designated minion. Keith was grateful to Pidge for backing him up. He wanted his excuse for fighting Matt to be guarding Lance, but deep down he knew that he was lying to himself. It felt shameful...well, only a little. Besides, Matt’s curiosity with the prosthetic arm would finally be fulfilled and Pidge took the needed help. That left Ulaz and Thace, to choose between Regris and Kolivan.

Keith wasn’t interested to see the results, so he followed the Holt siblings and joined the others to help clean up the equipment. The cloth ladders were rolled up and tucked away in cabinets while the hurdles were moved up against the walls. Any ropes used in the belly crawl were returned to the shelf that contained medicine balls, and the tires were picked up and rolled next to the hurdles.

Once everything was cleaned and put in their rightful place, Shiro called the fighters together. Keith followed along with everyone else and took his place next to Lance. He’s doing better, Keith noted. Lance’s skin was covered in a thin layer of sweat, but it gave him a healthy glow. The borrowed shirt had dark patches near the neck line and down the center of his back. Keith felt happy, proud even, upon seeing how straight Lance was standing. His posture was proper, his shoulders were squared, and his neck was aligned with the rest of his body. Lance was feeling very accomplished. 

“Voltron Gym will be closing early today, so that the participants for the Fight League can rest up.” Shiro scanned the crowd of faces and continued his announcement, “Any who are not fighting are encouraged to come and support the team. Our lovely receptionist, Pidge, was able to convince the people in charge of the event to give half price to any Voltron members. So bring your IDs and membership cards.”

Keith felt a light tap on his arm. Lance was looking at him with his mouth cupped and whispering, “Do I have to pay full price since I don’t have a membership here?”

“No. I don’t think so. You’re under contract with Voltron Gym and our masseur, so I think you get in for free.” The small smile that flashed across Lance’s face made Keith brighten, and he snorted when he saw the restrained fist pump.

After the announcement, Pidge and Shiro shuffled around the room. They made sure that the participating fighters had all the information they needed for tomorrow. Many of the gym members left early, skipping the locker rooms and preferring the showers in their homes rather than the communal ones. As the people filtered out, Shiro had approached Keith, smile strained and his forehead damp from their race.

“Can I leave locking up to you? I need to go with Pidge to pick up the small tour bus in the next town over. The place closes in an hour.” Shiro clapped him on the shoulder, asking him a simple favor.

“No problem. I’ve done this before so no worries.” Keith returned the friendly slap on the shoulder.

“I trust you, but…” Shiro turned and nudged his head elsewhere, motioning Keith’s eyes towards Lance, “It’ll just be you two. The Galra might come after him with so little people around.”

Keith cleared his throat and nodded, “Got it. I have you on speed dial.”

Shiro pulled him in for a half hug and whispered in his ear, “Keep him safe, keep him in your sights.”

“Understood.”

The two men pulled apart and Keith watched as Shiro jogged over to the front desk. Behind the reception desk, Pidge was hastily pulling on her green coat and shouldering her tiny backpack. With the coat half on, she tossed Shiro his jacket, then shooed him away from the desk and out the front door. They were going to have to beat the traffic if they were going to make it into the next town.

Keith continued to clean, finishing up anything that was out of place or forgotten. When he was satisfied, he turned and found Lance sitting patiently on a nearby bench press. The man’s legs were straddling the slim padded bench with his hands resting on his knees. Those eyes were trained on him, burning into him and willing him to do...something. All Keith knew was that they were focused and intense.

Lance stood up and swung his leg over the bench, “Where’d Shiro and Pidge go? I thought the boss stayed behind and you two closed up together.”

Keith wiped his hands on his training pants, “Not today. Shiro and Pidge needed to pick up the small tour bus. You and I are closing the place up.”

“What do we do?”

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

The two men passed by the locker rooms and walked down the hallways. Keith opened Shiro’s office door and went straight for the desk. The top drawer contained the master key they used to lock everything. Keith picked up the key and wiggled it between his fingers, making Lance chuckle. Together, they started at the emergency exit, checking if it was securely locked. They worked their way back to the front of the gym, checking rooms for any lingering people. If the room had windows, then Keith asked Lance to help him check if the safety locks were in place. By the time they reached the main room, the last member had opened the door and waved back to both Keith and Lance, wishing them luck for the qualifiers.

“The last door is that one.” Keith pointed to the front doors, “Can you pull down the blinds on the right side? I'll lock the doors and get the ones on the left.”

The masseur nodded and they got to work. Keith inserted the key and turned, then he jiggled the door to make sure it was solid. Afterwards, he moved on to the blinds and pulled on the chain to slowly lower thin metal links. They were meant to prevent break-ins and it had a padlock that connected to the concrete floor. He made sure to check Lance’s side as well.

Keith huffed out and brushed his hands, “Now that everything is locked up, let’s hit the showers.”

“S-showers?”

The man furrowed his brow confused, “Yeah. We both worked out today and we’re sweaty. I’m sure you want to shower off...oh!” Keith raised his hands ready to apologize, “U-unless you want to shower at home! It’s just us, but it’s fine if you want to go home. I completely understand the comfort of showering at home—”

“I’ll shower here.” Lance blurted it out, then quickly corrected himself, “It’s only the two of us. That’s fine. Besides...you’ve already seen all of me, it’s not really a problem…”

Keith cleared his throat and rubbed his head, looking away from Lance, “Go grab your bag. The showers are in the locker room.”

“Right!”

The masseur scampered off. Keith suddenly felt stupid and smacked himself in the forehead. Of course, Lance was nervous when he mentioned the showers. They were communal and there were no barriers. One night wouldn’t immediately change Lance’s perspective, and he was still self-conscious about the burn scar. Keith pressed the heel of his hands against his temples as he groaned and walked towards the locker rooms. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Generic soap and body odor wafted through the aisles of the locker room as Keith stepped inside. It wasn’t a bad smell, but it was enough for Pidge to speak up about it. Every other wall plug had some sort of fragrance or scented oil that changed once a month. Right now, it was sandalwood and it tickled his nose. The aroma got stronger as he got closer to his locker; it was next to an outlet.

Crossing his arms in front of him, Keith gripped the hem of his loose tank top and pulled it over his head. He could feel his abdomen stretch tenderly, sore from use. He whipped his top down and he let it fall to the white tiled floor. He stepped on the heel of his shoe and slipped his foot out, doing the same for the other. With his feet finally free, he undid the drawstrings on the athletic pants and pulled them down along with his boxer briefs. The cold air made his skin tighten and crawl, but he didn’t rush. The black tie holding his air was carefully pried out and he tossed it next to his discarded clothes. There was a slight bump from tying his hair, so he ran his fingers through his hair to shake it loose.

Connected to the locker room was the communal showers, and it had a stack of towels right outside the entrance. Keith grabbed at least one before taking a step down into the large room. Each shower head was sectioned off by frosted glass walls, fully equipped with shampoo, conditioner, and generic soap supplied by the league. Keith picked the first stall and threw his towel up and over the frosted wall to hang it. The knobs squeaked when he blasted himself with water.

There was a distinct sound of feet slapping against the tiled floors, “Keith?”

Before the fighter could answer, there was a high yelp that echoed behind him. He turned around and glimpsed a flash of skin disappear behind the frosted walls. Lance’s silhouette was blurred and obscured, but he could see the clean white towel wrapped around his waist. The nice part was that the walls were slightly raised off the floor, so he could see the masseur’s toes curl from the cold.

“You okay?” Keith asked as he pumped shampoo into his hand.

“I’m fine!”

The shower stall next to Keith sprung to life and he looked over to see Lance’s blurred figure standing under the water. A white towel joined his and flapped against the wall. It was teasing how the frosted glass obscured his view and it was worse when Lance’s hand reached up and passed through his brown hair. He felt like he was watching a sexy movie, wanting to see passed the barrier but having no power to do so. It took awhile for Keith to finally slap the shampoo into his hair. He washed and rinsed, then used the conditioner. While it sat, he took the soap bar and cleaned himself good.

Soap ran down his body and he focused on the white foam that floated down into the drain. His eyes flickered over to the other stall and he could see rinsed shampoo gathering into the shared drain. The faster he finished, the faster he could switch over to the other stall and watch a really...really nice show. Keith was quick to rinse the suds from his skin, and he didn’t bother to reach for his towel. Instead, he kept the shower running as to not alert the other man. Without lifting his feet from the ground, Keith slid his feet across the floor so no sound echoed across the communal shower. When he stepped out and turned into the second shower stall, he licked his lips and rubbed his chin. Delicious.

Lance was facing away from the entrance, with conditioner in his hair and soap caressing his skin. An off white, transparent line escaped the line of his hair, and it rolled down his neck slow and gentle. Hands were roaming everywhere from the back of his shoulders, to the dimples on his back. Keith was particularly interested in the trail of soap that dripped down the burn scar, following an invisible path of soft, raised skin. The white suds dipped into the Apollo Dimples before curving away and disappearing between round cheeks. Keith hummed and licked his lips. He felt his cock twitch.

Now, Lance soaping himself up was something and watching the white bubbles dance across his body was tasty, but the rinse was even better. Keith was getting excited as he watched commercial worthy material. Lance’s hair was pressed against his head, swept up and slicked back like he just walked out of the ocean. He couldn’t see, but he was pretty sure that those dark eyelashes were sticking together, making them thicker and fuller. What really got him and caught Keith off guard was the deep contented sigh that escaped Lance’s mouth.

Steam floated up from the masseur’s parted lips, mixing in with the warm water. Hands wiped up his face and combed back his wet hair once more, before wiping down his arms. Doing so, caused Lance’s head to twist. Clear eyes flickered up and caught Keith’s exposed form, making Lance yelp in surprise and press his body forward against the cold tiles. Keith grinned at Lance’s poor attempt to conceal himself and he crossed his arms, delighted with what he was witnessing.

“Fucking hell! What are you doing?!” Lance yelled with his chest pressed against the tile and his head twisted to look at Keith.

“Just admiring the view…” Keith sang out his words in a playful manner before adding, “Remember what I said: don’t ever be shy with me.”

A mixture of embarrassment and heat from the shower made Lance’s skin appear pink and the scar was lighter in comparison to the rest of his body. The communal showers had some pretty good lighting, because now Keith could really see the blemishes that marked the man’s body. Other than the obvious discoloration that covered the expanse of his back, many of the scars were recognizable because Keith had similar ones from fighting in the ring. The ones that he couldn’t discern were alarming.

Keith’s mind snapped back into focus when Lance slightly turned away from covering his modesty. The lanky man wasn’t facing Keith fully, but he could see that Lance was at least interested. He wasn’t shy about looking directly at the obvious girth standing proudly. They were about the same size. It wasn’t surprising, but seeing Lance like this was doing things to him.

“I know that what we did last night was stupid and crazy, but…” Keith wiped a hand down his mouth, standing straighter and not caring that his erection was doing the same, “I’m feeling pretty stupid and crazy right now. Does that count?”

Lance breathed out, “God, yes.”

They both moved at the same time and crashed their lips against each other. They kissed frantically, desperately pulling each other closer. Keith wrapped an arm around the other’s waist, then guided him backwards until they hit the wall. Lance squeaked from the cold, but pressed closer and wrapped both arms around Keith’s neck. Lips, jaw line, the Adam’s apple, down to the collar bone, everything felt heated and he chalked it up to the warm water that was still showering them.

When Lance started to follow his decent, Keith pressed his hand against the man’s chest and said, “Stay.”

A wobbled sigh left Lance’s mouth and Keith continued his journey. He kissed down the sternum, taking his time licking and sucking at each nipple. The body in front of him rocked back and forth, trying to get away from the painful pleasure against his chest and the biting cold against his back. But it was hopeless with how Keith pinned him down. He grasped Lance’s hips and pressed them roughly against the wall, before he dropped down to his knees. A moan echoed in the communal showers as Keith took Lance’s length between his lips.

“Fuck, more…” Lance curled forward and gathered Keith’s hair into his fingers, pulling them away from his eyes, “You’re, hah, gorgeous—” Another moan escaped his lips.

The fingers holding back his messy black hair was massaging his scalp, making him hum softly around the cock in his mouth. The sound vibrated gently and traveled up the other man’s length. Keith may not have been able to take everything in, but he didn’t want to move his hands just yet, so he focused on what he could reach. He bobbed, pulling his head back so that his lips dragged. His tongue followed a vein underneath Lance’s member, until he hooked under the crown and swiped across the head. Keith made a show of sucking the head and popping off, a faint supple sound fighting against the reverberating shower.

“S-slow down,” Lance groaned out, “I’m close. I’m so close…”

Heat twitched between his legs when he saw how flushed Lance’s cock was in front of him. Keith could see that Lance really pushed himself; from willing to step out of his comfort zone, to experiencing some sort of panic, and then jumping back into the groove of it all...Lance was amazing. Why the masseur couldn’t see it, Keith would never know. But he could show him, and he wanted to reward Lance as strange as that sounded. He released his hold on Lance’s hips then looped his arms between the other man’s legs.

Keith smirked and looked up from his kneeled position, “Brace yourself.”

The masseur furrowed his eyebrows confused, “Wait, what are you—” Lance gasped as Keith lifted him up. His legs and ass were sitting against hard biceps, with calloused hands supporting his back. Everything paused for a moment, then Lance looked down and bit out, “Next time, tell me what you’re gonna do.”

“Then I’ll tell you right now.” Keith snapped his teeth playfully making Lance squeak, “I’m going to eat you out; build you up and make you scream. I want to hear you beg for me to finish, and I’ll keep you on edge until I hear those sweet words tumble from your mouth.” He leaned forward and sucked Lance’s stomach, making him squirm, “Do you want this?”

Lance nodded his head frantically, “Yes. Please. But not here…” He covered his face with his hands and garbled out, “I want you inside me, and there’s no condoms here.”

The statement made Keith choke on the spray of water, “Y-yeah, okay. Uh, locker room.”

For a short moment, he felt awkward. Keith was trying to show off, but only a few words cracked his smooth exterior and he felt like buckling before the man in his arms. The shy, yet bold statement put him in his place. Keith never won, Lance had always been in control. Carefully, he lowered the man until he was steady on his feet. Afterwards, Keith raced over to his shower to turn off the water. They thought the same thing and grabbed their towels, drying off as much as they could while they walked briskly into the locker room.

Every movement had a purpose. Feet slapped against the tile floor and the locker door Keith yanked open smacked against metal. He had lube and condoms in his duffel back from last night. While he was searching his bag, Lance had latched onto his back and began to dust his lips against his skin. Keith had to stop Lance once he felt teeth skim against his shoulder.

“No marking for me. The judges do a physical before the match.” Keith rejoiced when he found what he needed.

Lance slid his hand up and around to grab at Keith’s chest, “Fine, but next time, we’ll do it my way.”

Keith turned with the lube and condoms in one hand, and pulling the masseur closer with the other, “Next time, huh? What happened to this being crazy and stupid?”

There was a nibble on his ear and a hot voice growling in his ear, “Shut up and fuck me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real question here is if Keith and Lance are in a relationship or if they're fuck buddies...  
> Next chapter: Qualifiers. The strongest fighters are going to be busy facing their opponents in the ring...and that leaves Lance without a bodyguard. I know I keep hinting that the Galra are going to show up, but well, I had to get some of the good stuff out of the way.


	9. Vale Tudo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Century Fight League is underway, but trouble is brewing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sorry for disappearing for a month. Why? Well, I recently bought a new video game and wanted to complete it 100% and it ended up taking me a week (I took some breaks in between). Also it was my brother's birthday and we went camping, so I was pretty much off grid. Then there were some family problems. It was a busy month. Not only that, but my vacation days are quickly coming to a close so I will be returning to work soon. Meetings, meetings, everywhere. Anyways, thank you for hanging in there!

Mixed Martial Arts was efficiently, controlled violence. No real protection was used against the onslaught of attacks. The only thing that kept fighters from dancing across the forbidden line were carefully laid out rules. They were to be respected, but Lance had violated those sacred guidelines; it didn’t matter if it was against his will. So to step foot into the dome that held the Century Fight League for MMA Fighters made Lance feel as if he was violating the very ground it was built on. Every step was anxious, his breath was shallow and quiet, and his eyes constantly darted from one place to another. Even if Lance was supposed to be present, he wasn’t meant to be...here.

“I’m not going to give you some heartfelt speech.” Shiro’s voice was only loud enough for his fighters to hear, “You have your reason to fight, and you have the unyielding support of everyone: friends, family, fans, and most of all, Voltron Gym.” The coach raised his prosthetic limb and made a fist, “If you get too worried about what could go wrong, you might miss a chance to do something great. So go out there and fight!” Shiro pointed to the dome and shouted, “Show the world something great!”

Lance stood by silently as he watched the participating fighters howl and cheer. They whistled and shook their fists in the air ready to take on any opponent the officials threw their way. The team picked up their bags and began their walk of fame into the building, leaving behind Lance, Shiro, Pidge, and Coran. Keith was the last of the fighters to leave, smiling and giving a small salute to Lance. The lanky man returned the wave in a bashful manner; only raising his hand as high has his chest, and straining to hide the smile on his lips.

“Have you figured out the difference yet?” The man jumped from the sudden disturbance. Pidge was standing next to him with her hands clasped behind her back, watching the fighters prepare.

“Difference between what?” Lance asked. He kept his eyes locked on Voltron Gym’s participants.

Pidge looked up at Lance and smiled, her glasses pushed up by her cheeks, “The way Keith looks at you.”

Lance shrugged, “I think so. I mean, at least now I know he wasn’t glaring at me the first day.”

“Good.” Pidge looped one arm around Lance’s and began to guide him towards the building, “Today, you’ll see him in action and you’ll finally understand what I meant by ‘murdering glare’. Keith can get intense during fights like these.”

Preparations for the League took up most of the morning and everyone had gone their separate ways except for Lance and Pidge. Because Shiro was the coach for Voltron’s MMA Fighters, he followed them into the locker rooms where each participant stripped down to be examined and sorted into their weight class. Coran had gone to the temporary medical ward to receive a quick rundown of paramedic procedures. The clinical doctor would be busy for the rest of the day, so it left the remaining two members to their own devices.

There was little that Lance and Pidge could do until the first match started, so they clung to the walls and observed the fighters walking through the building. They turned it into a game, deepening their voices and reciting an inner monologue for each gorilla that caught their eye. A few times, their giggles and snorts got heads to turn which prompted them to change locations and start the game again. The ridiculousness of it all eased some of Lance’s tension, but it did nothing to prevent the rising testosterone that dispersed through the building. Each martial artist carried a presence and it said that they were ready to fight at the drop of a hat. The sheer muscle mass that paraded around the dome made Lance sweat both nervously and for other reasons...but he only had eyes on one man.

“When do the fights start?” Lance asked.

Pidge lifted her arm and pulled on her sleeve to reveal a wrist watch, “Soon. The doors should be opening now to let in the audience. Want to go and find some seats?”

Lance nodded his head and followed the young woman through the halls, “Is anyone else coming today?”

Pidge hummed as she weaved through the gathering crowd, “I know Matt is coming, so we’ll save a seat for him. Hunk is running his restaurant, but he has a TV in the break room so he can watch. Who else…” The young woman was silent for a bit before continuing, “I heard Allura would be here at a later time to help with any recovery...I think that’s it. Maybe a few gym members will show up.”

Their conversation lulled as they got closer to the entrance leading to the stadium. It was a good idea to arrive early, otherwise Lance wouldn’t have seen how the stadium looked without the thousands of people. Red seats covered both the second floor and outer area of the first floor while blue plastic folding chairs took up the majority of the remaining area that surrounded a caged hexagonal ring at the center. Above the caged ring were bright lights mounted on metal bars. Four plasma screens were position at the very top for viewers at the very back of the crowd.

Despite not being in the hexagonal cage, it was overwhelming to Lance. He had to latch onto Pidge’s tiny backpack purse so he wouldn’t get lost in his trance. The cage was where everything started for him, and where it all ended. Lance was a weapon in the ring; he killed. It was jarring to be on the other side of the cage. There was an underlying fear of being pulled back in by an invisible force, and it caused him to grip Pidge’s bag even tighter.

“Are you okay? You’re really pulling on my bag.” Pidge folded a hand into Lance’s to guide him towards their seats.

Lance squeezed the receptionist’s hand, “I-I’m fine. It’s just...I’ve never been on this side of the cage.”

The other had no answer to his comment. Lance kept telling himself over and over again that he would enjoy watching MMA Fighting again, but now he was starting to rethink that idea. It was a lie. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all. His eyes began to dart around the stadium, searching for the exit signs, planning his escape. The desperate need to run must have been visible on his face, because Pidge turned around and held both of his hands. It was barely grounding him.

“Listen, I won’t blame you if you want to leave right now, but I do know this…” Pidge pointed to the ring and said, “Keith needs our support and I think you would regret not seeing his match. You don’t need to watch the others, but try and stay until Keith gets in that cage and kicks ass.” She reached up and cupped his face in her delicate hands, “Do you think you can handle that?”

The masseur wordlessly nodded and let Pidge guide him through the chairs until they reached the front row. Lance kept his gaze trained on the foundation of the cage, never breaking his trance unless it was to answer Pidge. As more people filed in, they were reunited with Shiro and Coran. Both men checked in with Lance and Pidge before alerting them that they would be ringside for their jobs. It made Lance feel safe knowing that they would be near.

Noise filled the stadium and Lance strained to hear Pidge’s words until she jumped to her feet and began waving her arms wildly. He looked up and saw Matt walking towards them. It was strange seeing Pidge’s brother in casual clothes, but he did fill out nicely. The siblings embraced and took their seats; one on each side of Lance. It seemed that the older sibling made it in time, because the announcer came on stage and began his big speech.

Lance began to zone out, ignoring and blocking all the noise in the stadium to prevent himself from having another episode. He wanted to see Keith fight, and he wasn’t sure if seeing blood being sprayed across the ring would help keep his sanity. Lance was nervous, and he was terrified that the smallest thing might trigger him. Seeing the cage scratched the surface, but the fighting, the cheering, the bloody teeth and swollen bruises; all of it could very well pull Lance under. So he kept his eyes downcast and listened to Pidge and Matt cheer. There were at least three different matches and Lance kept his gaze locked to the floor with his ass glued to the plastic chair. He only snapped out of his daze when Pidge called his name.

“Lance! Lance! It’s Keith!” Pidge slapped his shoulder repeatedly, barely containing herself, “Keith’s up next!” She shook her hands up near her face like the joy bubbling out of her was taking physical form.

“Listen, that’s our gym’s song! I can’t believe he picked that!” Matt brushed both his hands through his hair like he was going crazy. He threw his hands out exasperated as a deep thumping beat came on.

The crowd turned to see Keith enter. They chanted his name louder and louder. Lance saw the light hit his shoulders and remembered how his hands dug deep into that man’s skin in the locker room showers. He moved his eyes down to take the rest of him in. Keith’s defined biceps brought to mind how easily he lifted Lance and took him wherever he wanted the masseur to be. Every aspect of his sex appeal was devastating and it made Lance squirm just thinking about how it felt to be pressed up against him.

As his mind returned to the arena, Lance was shocked by the reaction Keith was getting from the crowd. The men were cheering, but it was the women who were going nuts. There were declarations of love, yelled comments about his smoking physique, and a few rare encouraging chants to bash the other guy’s head in. Lance saw Keith lift his head at the last one, which had been down as he made his way in, his face in shadow from the lights above. It reminded him of the red banner hanging from inside Voltron Gym.

When Lance saw his face in the light, the tight jaw, the intense eyes, he finally understood what Pidge had meant. Keith didn’t compare to the other men, because he was no longer human. He was a predator ready for his sacrifice. Considering what they had done together, Lance almost felt superior. Keith was a fighter and none of the ladies could have him. For that small moment, he allowed himself some self-satisfaction—guilt free.

Keith found him in the crowd, and it was the most heart stopping thing Lance could imagine. Their eyes locked and very slowly, Keith kissed his gloved hand before extending his fist in Lance’s direction. The general area around him went completely wild, accompanied by screaming women, wolf whistles, and howling like it was a physical assault. The masseur had to bite his lip and press the heel of his palm against his eyes to prevent the expression that forced its way onto his face. He was embarrassed by the pompous display and the crowd’s reaction, but the heat flooded his body. It was so flirtatious and Lance loved it. The gestured made him flush like they were having sex for the first time.

The chains were off. Shiro had worked hard to train the animal that was being unleashed in its natural setting. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. Keith and his opponent, some man named Hepta, began to shuffle around in place. Both men waited for the signal, then bumped fists before the first match. Lance almost felt sorry for the other guy, but it was mesmerizing all the same. The charging, the pushing, the roars that erupted from the cage was enthralling, and it had Lance screaming alongside Pidge and Matt.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Take him down, Keith! You got this!” Then Lance raised his fist and waved it more while shouting.

His voice blended in with the rest of the crowd, but that didn’t matter to Lance. He felt like he was helping in some way, encouraging the fighter before him to persevere and rain hellfire on his opponent. But things began to turn risky when Hepta rushed in. The other man ducked into Keith’s guard and tackled him. He wrapped his arms around Keith’s torso and then forced him up against the caged ring. The entire hexagon shook and Lance could hear Keith groan from the impact.

The grunting was deafening and sweat flicked off Keith’s lip with every labored breath. There was no pause as Hepta began to lay punch after punch straight into Keith’s kidney. It was pointless to block because of how they were locked together, so Keith resorted to wailing on the other man’s body. It forced them to adjust, desperately grasping at each other until they were clinched. Each of their hands were locked against the back of their heads, while the free one continued to fight for dominance.

Everything happened fast, and Lance was screaming hopelessly for Keith to regain his footing. Blood was dripping from out of the fighter’s mouth and his black hair had come completely undone. The man’s body was haphazardly thrown against the floor, but Keith quickly recovered and used his momentum to climb back up to his feet. His back slammed back into the cage, and the crowd was roaring even louder. Keith shook his arms, whipping them forward to reload his muscles with energy, and then settling back into his stance.

Lance was violently gripping his shirt, right above his heart. He couldn’t tell if he was going to have another anxiety attack or if he was just bracing for what would happen next. Just as Hepta charged towards his opponent and punched, Keith whipped out the same arm and blocked the strike, slapping it aside and fluidly chaining together his next move. Strike after strike, every hit was used to discombobulate, making his opponent reel back in a daze. The punches and kicks became sloppy, and it made it easier for Keith to block and retaliate with a hit. When there was enough space between them, Keith stepped forward and roared as he landed a clean kick against his opponent’s diaphragm. Hepta staggered backwards and collapsed against the chain linked walls. Before Keith could get to his opponent, the referee stepped in. The man in the black polo shirt quickly checked Hepta’s slumped figure and declared it a technical knockout.

Cheering and screaming pounded against Lance’s hears and his voice joined the chorus. He watched as Keith raised his arms victoriously, trying to yell passed his mouth guard. Off to the side, Shiro was banging against the cage and erupting with happiness. Several times their coach shook Coran before hugging him and swinging him around. The other doctors in the area were already checking up on the knocked out man and attending to Keith, as they escorted him out of the stadium. When Lance saw that they were making their exit, he stood up from his seat.

“Wha—Lance?! What are you doing?!” Pidge screamed over the wailing of the audience.

Lance beamed and shouted back, “I’m going to congratulate Keith! Plus my time slot is coming up; need to do my job right?”

“We’ll come with you then!” Matt jumped to his feet and slung an arm around Lance’s shoulder, “Come on, Pidge! We can record the other guys later! The next match isn’t from our gym!”

Together the three of them wiggled their way out of the stadium. Their reserved seats wouldn’t disappear; they would have a fairly easy time finding them to watch the rest of Voltron’s matches. Matt led the way out, making a path for both Lance and Pidge to follow. When they exited the dome, they followed the hallway until they reached the shared locker rooms. Just as they were about to enter the locker room, Matt grabbed Pidge’s small backpack and yanked it.

“Hold on, that’s the men’s locker room.” Matt scolded.

Pidge huffed and crossed her arms, “It’s not like I haven’t walked into the men’s locker room before.”

“Yes, but that was Voltron Gym and you only did it to scare everyone. Give the naked people some privacy—”

“I’ll check first.” Lance interrupted, “I’m pretty sure the examinations are over, but just to make sure, I’ll go look first and come back.”

Before Matt or Pidge could protest, Lance circled around the white tiled wall and did a quick peek inside. One of the staff members stopped him, but Lance introduced himself and showed the special ID card they had for registered physical therapists. There were a few men walking about, but none of them naked. There were even a few women sitting on the benches wrapping their hands with tape. It seemed that this was the only locker room they were using for today’s fights. Satisfied, Lance walked back outside and told both Pidge and Matt that the people inside were decent.

The trio found Keith fairly quickly, and he was being fussed over by Coran, Shiro, and a second doctor. It was hard to take Coran seriously with his mismatched socks and brown sandals, but he had a serious look as he turned Keith’s jaw back and forth between his hands. The rubber gloves covering Coran’s hands had small streaks of blood that was beginning to dry. He was attending to a new cut that split over his temple.

“I’ve disinfected the wound; luckily you won’t need stitches.” Coran pinched the skin together before applying a butterfly bandage, “Shiro, come here and tie the poor man’s hair up. I would rather have nothing touching it at the moment.” Listening to Coran’s request, Shiro stepped over the locker room bench and began to gather strands of hair while Coran continued to work.

All three approached Keith, congratulating him on his first win for the League. The man beamed and shocked everyone with a bloody smile. Lance visibly cringed and asked what had happened. Coran answered and said that one punch had landed particularly hard. The mouth guard had done its job, but Keith still ended up cutting his mouth on a broken plastic edge.

Without missing a beat, Coran forced the fighter’s mouth open and pulled on his upper lip, “Right here. Most oral injuries, such as cuts, heal rather quickly. The only reason it looks so bad is because the blood mixes in with the saliva.”

Keith pulled away and retorted, “Stop that! They don’t need to see all that blood.”

In return, Coran laughed and patted the other man’s shoulder, “My apologies. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and check up on the other fighters while you change.”

The older man stood up and carried an emergency kit away, approaching another fighter who was being attended to by another medic. Meanwhile, Shiro straddled the bench next to Keith. Together, all five of them celebrated the victory. They gushed about the win, complimenting Keith on his attacks and his blocks. When a loud booming voice echoed into the locker room, Matt and Pidge stood up.

The older sibling held out his hand to Keith, “Pidge and I are going to leave now. Sounds like the other guys from the gym are up next.” When the two men shook hands, Matt added, “Congratulations, man. That was the coolest fight ever!”

The Holt siblings waved as they stepped out of the locker room. They sprinted off to the stadium to record the next fighter’s match. Shiro also excused himself. If another Voltron member was going to start their match, then he needed to be there as their coach. The large man left the two alone, reminding them to stick together and advising them to watch the rest of the members fight.

Finally, they were without a chaperone. Lance sat down next to Keith and let his reality sink in. The fighter before him was hunched over with his elbows resting against his knees. There were a few sprinkles of bruising forming along his legs and arms, and parts of his face had become swollen. The skin around his injuries were pink and inflamed, while his right ear was puffing up. Another cauliflower ear was forming over a previously made one. Despite his tattered state, Lance could see that Keith was incredibly proud of himself. Nothing was more satisfying than winning a match with your own strength.

“I want to kiss you so bad right now.” Lance muttered.

Keith snorted and looked up from his hunched over position, “Maybe not with all this blood on me.”

“Then how about a place with no blood or injuries?”

The fighter smiled, “I’ll take what I can get.”

There were a lot of areas that didn’t have blood or open injuries, but it wasn’t very appropriate because they were sharing the locker room with several other people. So Lance did the only thing he thought was suitable. He brought his hands up to Keith’s head and gently pulled him closer. Very carefully, Lance leaned in and brushed his lips against Keith’s hair. He made sure there was enough pressure for Keith to feel it, but gently enough to prevent any irritation. 

“If my mouth wasn’t injured, I would absolutely kiss you right now.” Keith blurted out.

Lance used his hands to turn Keith’s gaze and looked him in his eyes, “Don’t worry. I’ll wait.” Afterwards, he stood up and pointed to one of the lockers, “Okay. Go and put some clothes on. I’ll go grab us some water and snacks, then we can meet up with Matt and Pidge to watch the rest of the matches.”

They had their tasks. Keith turned away from Lance and began to open up his own locker. Meanwhile, Lance exited the men’s locker room and searched for a food vendor. He spotted one down the long hall. Along the way, he hummed a nice tune. Keith didn’t look like he needed any massage therapy, but he would need to do a quick examination for the other Voltron members after their fights.

After waiting in line and grabbing two water bottles and a couple snacks, Lance turned and began to walk back to the locker rooms. He stuffed the sealed bags into his jacket pocket, then tucked one bottle under his arm to open up the other one. Lance always liked the noise of the twist cap snapping, but it was too loud to hear it. He took several gulps then recapped the bottle; he hadn’t had anything for fear of having an upset stomach. How embarrassing it would be to empty in the audience after only seeing sporting violence.

A shoulder bumped into him and the masseur turned to apologize. The stranger he bumped into also apologized before leaving Lance. He was a little surprised by the blurry spots that plagued his sight. He blinked several times to try and clear his eyes, but they weren’t receding, so he resorted to rubbing them. When nothing worked, Lance looked for the nearest restroom. Perhaps a quick rinse would clear them up.

It wasn’t hard to find the restrooms or where the sinks were. Only the edges of objects were smudged so it wasn’t as if he would crash into something. Lance placed the two bottles on the small stand above the sink, then cupped his hands under the motion sensor. Thin sprays slowly filled his makeshift bowl, before he brought the water up to his eyes. While his eyes were immersed, he blinked several times before refilling his hands to switch to the other eye. Using the sleeve of his sweater, he patted his face down and tried again. Strange. Still a bit hazy.

“Hey, you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine. My eyes are just—”

A large hand shot out and gripped the back of his head, then pushed him down and slammed his forehead against the aluminum stand. The hollow metal rang like a drum as Lance crumbled to the ground, clutching his injured head and groaning loudly. When he touched the tender skin, he felt something thick and wet. Blood. Lance wanted to lash out at the person above him for doing something so dangerous, but he choked on his words. Fear rushed to embrace him, and adrenaline forced him to scramble away from the perpetrator. Unfortunately, the only exit was right behind the man standing above him.

“You were smart back then, touching down in nearly every country just to erase your trail.” The man crouched down in front of Lance and gripped his hair tightly, “You let your guard down too early, and now the Galra found you.”

Lance groaned and latched onto the arm holding him on reflex, “S-Sendak. You’re supposed to be in jail.”

“Strange, I don’t see any police around.” The Galra member laughed at his own sarcasm, “It’s amazing what money can do. Bet you could win us even more than what you owe.”

“I’m not going back.” Lance took a deep breath and braced himself for what he needed to do, “I hope you know that taking me back won’t be easy.”

Lance jerked his head away and ripped himself out of Sendak’s grip. He screamed as clumps of his brown hair was ripped from his scalp. He kept moving and pushed his attacker back with his feet, making Sendak tumble backwards. Desperate to escape, Lance scrambled to his feet and ran passed the fallen body. Something wrapped around his ankle and he fell to the ground, his chest and forearms slapping against the porcelain tiles.

“Haxus, pull the fire alarm. I’m going to need some cover.” Behind him, Sendak had a phone to his ear.

Alarms echoed louder against the bathroom stalls and it pulsed in Lance’s ears. He bent his knee to pull against the firm grip, bringing him closer to kick hard. His heel collided against Sendak’s hand, and the phone clattered against the floor. Angry and annoyed, Sendak reached out and gripped Lance’s other ankle and pulled him in. Now they were locked together with Sendak between his thighs and trying to pin down his arms. When he couldn’t get a grip, he abandoned the idea and began to strangle him.

“I’ll just knock you out like this!” Sendak grunted as he pressed harder with his thumbs, “I can just carry you out, like I’m helping out a fainted friend.”

The lack of air was making Lance’s eyes water, and he could feel his cheeks burn from exertion. Break the hold, Lance thought, come on break it! Lance used one hand to grip Sendak’s wrist, then used his other hand to cross over and lock it against his neck. Lance began to quietly cough from the strangling, but he kept going. He braced one foot against Sendak’s hip and used it to help his other leg wrap around his back. Once his leg was high enough, he swung his left leg around, pivoted his entire body, turning the tables and trapping his opponent under his legs.

Sendak grunted as his back slammed into the floor and kicked his feet out, trying to regain his trapped arm. Lance didn’t let up. He planted his feet down and thrust his hips up at the same time he pulled down on Sendak’s trapped arm. There was enough strain to break the trapped arm, but something wasn’t right. No matter how much strength Lance put into breaking Sendak’s arm, it wouldn’t give. Every limb felt heavy and his eyes were getting fuzzy.

The arm trapped in his hold was forcefully ripped away and Lance rolled onto his side and wheezed. Where did his power go? Why can’t he move. Next to him, Sendak rose to his feet, fixing his clothes and brushing off whatever dirt that had clung to his body.

Sendak rolled his shoulders then grunted out, “About time that drug kicked in. Next time will be a heavier dose.”

Drug? Heavier dose? Was he drugged? Lance tried his best to replay the day’s events. At no point in time was he ever—the bottle! He didn’t hear the plastic seal snap because it was too loud in the hallway. He should have checked to make sure it was completely sealed and not tampered with. Did that mean the food vendor was a part of Sendak’s and Haxus’ plan? It had to be, they weren’t this sly.

Being on the bathroom floor was disgusting, but that was the last thing on his mind. The adrenaline must have caused the drug to spread faster. He knew that his friends would come looking for him soon, especially Keith since he said that he would be back after getting food. Not to mention the blaring fire alarm. But with the thousands of people sprinkled with mass panic, Sendak could easily slip out with Lance over his shoulder.

It was getting harder and harder to think. Lance could barely resist as the sadistic man picked up his limp body and adjusted him over a shoulder. Everything spun and it felt like he was trying to fight off a drunken stupor. He watched dazed as the bags fell from his pocket. The lanyard that held his special ID card dangled from the back of his head before clattering against the floor. Swarms of people faded in and out of his vision. The fire alarms pulsed and each time the wailing faded out, Lance swore he heard someone calling to him.

“Lance!”

There was a red hoodie pushing against a grey sea of people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Vale Tudo" is Portuguese for "anything goes”. It's a term that refers to the "no holds barred" fighting that began in Brazil. I thought it was very fitting for this chapter. Just a small reminder that I plan to keep my stories short; I don't like the idea of writing 25 chapters for one story.
> 
> This story is heating up! What will happen next? Will Lance be okay and will the others spring into action?! Tune in next chapter for "Clinched"! Thanks again everyone!


	10. Survival of the Fittest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is kidnapped by Sendak and Haxus...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, I'm back! Quick update: my family situation has not improved at all and that had caused a two month long writer's block. I tried everything to get out of my slump and I finally did it. Anyways, thank you all for understanding and waiting. There will be one more chapter after this to conclude the story (because I am ready to move on to a new story, although I don't know what pairing I will do yet.) So Happy Thanksgiving and Merry Christmas!!!

Death wasn’t ideal, but after everything Lance went through, it was starting to sound tempting. The illegal fights that Lance was roped into were borderline suicidal. They were bare-knuckle fighting, no holds barred, and half the time someone would die by the end of a match. He remembered how the anticipation before a fight would force him to pause and pray, hoping to survive another fight. Other times, he would feel numb and let himself lose only to have the deepest primal instinct to survive awaken. But there were a few rare moments where Lance had won a fight by the skin of his teeth. The pain that coursed through his body was torture; the constant pulse of agony that plagued his bones and tore at his organs made him realize: this is what death felt like.

Lance could barely remember how he had escaped the illegal fights, but he did know that he had inside help. There was very little hope that he would receive the same help he did last time, and even if he did get lucky, then he would have to leave behind the life he settled into. Had it not been for a certain gym and a specific young MMA fighter, then Lance wouldn’t have minded at all. Half of him regretted ever making connections, while the other half was thankful. Still, nothing was going to help him out of his current situation.

Somewhere in the city was an abandoned building, covered by questionable graffiti and surrounded by rusted chain linked fences. Despite the building’s outward appearance, the inside was rather clean. Lance was pretty sure that the owner of the building had regular cleaning schedules put in place because he could smell the distinct disinfecting chemicals wafting through the area. Even the scattered tools and worn equipment were organized and put in their proper places.

Outside, Lance could hear the city breathe. Traffic must have been heavy because there was at least one car honking every two minutes, and he knew because he counted. There was a soft glow outside the warehouse windows and a cold breeze flowed through the missing glass panels. He could see that the sky was dark, but that didn’t help him figure out how much time had passed. Lance could have been unconscious for days and he wouldn’t have known; it made his heart sink with despair. Being tied down wasn’t helping either.

Sendak and Haxus had taken excessive precautions when securing him. His throat was outfitted with a prong training collar and the slip was connected to two separate chains: one high above his head and another attached to the floor. The slip and the spikes on the inside of the collar made it impossible for Lance to lie down or even attempt to stand up. If he moved in either direction, then the slip would be pulled and the spikes would dig into his neck. It was terrifying to wake up to the feeling of twenty small prongs stabbing him. He couldn’t even lift his hands to try and adjust the collar because they were both chained separately to the floor. The only thing that wasn’t chained were his feet, and although it didn’t help him escape, it allowed him to adjust the pressure of the prong collar.

How humiliating Lance must have looked, completely at the mercy of his enemies. Death would be so much better...all he would have to do is let his body weight hang and let the spikes puncture his windpipe...it would be so easy. However, something deep down was stopping him from following through with the plan. Lance would never actually do that to himself and experience such pain. But was he ready to go back to illegal fighting? Was he ready to slip back into his survival mindset...to be willing to kill someone with his bare hands?

Voices bounced off the barren walls of the abandoned building and Lance could hear footsteps approaching. Barely lifting his head, he saw two familiar faces walking into the room…

“How much was submitted today?” It was Sendak, looking less and less human.

Next to him, Haxus laughed and replied, “About three times as much. The viewers are excited to see the return of The Blue Lion. They’re going to lose all their money though; this one hasn’t fought in years.”

“Well that didn’t stop him from fighting back.” Sendak walked up to Lance and kicked him in the torso, “Wake up!”

The swift kick to his stomach made him hack and cough violently, causing the prongs to rub dangerously against his Adam’s apple. His hands shot up on reflex but was snapped into place by the cuffs. Being unable to put pressure where he was hit made the injury hurt worse. Lance did his best to concentrate on the pain, taking uneven wheezing breathes.

The monster before him gripped the fringe of his hair and yanked it backwards, “I hope you heard what we were talking about. We have a few fights lined up for you before departing from the country. Of course, to make some big cash you’re going to have to lose…”

Sendak released Lance and grabbed the chain connected to his collar, then said, “If your reputation is anything to go by, then we both know that losing isn’t a part of your agenda. So here’s what we’re going to do,” The collar around Lance’s neck began to constrict, closing dangerously as Sendak explained what was going to happen next, “You’re going to fight some of our men and they’re going to whip you into shape. No stopping, no rest, you’ll be thrown into a match afterwards.”

Fuck, he couldn’t breathe! Lance yanked on his chains trying to get his hands anywhere near his tightening collar. His eyes began to water and his legs were shaking violently. His mouth was open in an attempt to breathe, but only drool was slipped out. Sendak pulled on the chain harder before laughing and releasing the offending equipment. After they allowed Lance to catch his breath, they unlocked his chains to both his arms and his collar. Together, both men dragged Lance across the floor to the center of the room.

Sendak pinned Lance to the floor while Haxus reached out for the chain connected to the collar. The lanky man pulled and threaded one end through a lifting hook that had a safety latch. Haxus yanked the chain to make sure it was secure before walking away to press a button on the nearby wall. Somewhere in the ceiling, gears began to whirl as the lifting hook ascended. Horrified that the two men might hang him, Lance began to punch blindly, but he could already feel the pull on his neck. He struggled to follow the pull until he was finally standing. There was enough slack for him to move, but the hook itself was too high up for him to detach himself.

“Should we do something with the cuffs?” Haxus asked.

Sendak clicked his tongue and walked away, “No. He can use them as weapons or the men and use it to bind his arms; either way, leave them.” The monster turned and walked away, pulling a touch phone from his pocket, “You keep him company while I call the others. Bet they can get some quality entertainment in.” Sendak’s laugh echoed darkly.

Before Lance could reach up and attempt to unhinge the prong collar, Haxus sucker punched him straight across his face. The force alone made his entire body follow and the weight caused the collar to tighten dangerously. Another blow came, and this time it was a swift kick to his diaphragm. The impact made him curl down and hug his chest, but the collar snapped tight again.

“Better start blocking, or else you’re going to sever your neck.” Haxus laughed excitedly, giving Lance a moment to collect himself, “Show me the ferocity of The Blue Lion! Show me the true predator that’s hiding beneath that human skin!”

Lance wanted to cry. The pure frustration and desperation of his situation was frying his nerves, and there was really only one thing he could do: scream. He was tired of spending his life on the run. Lance had jumped seven continents, lived weeks in unheard of towns and cities, traveled thousands of miles on foot, and even smuggled himself passed checkpoints; he was so fucking tired. He was tired of looking over his shoulder and flinching at any mention of the Galra name. Lance screamed louder than any broken bone had caused him; louder than any Spartan torture he endured. He gripped the chains attached to his wrists and he whipped them forward.

The rattling slap echoed against the barren walls and made Haxus shout in pain. After the chains made contact, Lance pulled them back and he began to rotate them, keeping his makeshift weapon at his sides. If he couldn’t swing them above his head, then he would just have to pinwheel them and created a barrier between himself and Haxus. Metal became a constant sound as the ends of the chains continued to whip against the concrete floor, creating marks and forcing Haxus to step backwards.

Apparently there was a pattern, and Haxus waited patiently before jumping in to catch the flying chains. The man sacrificed his shoulders, letting them receive the full force of the metal whips. He pulled on them harshly, but Lance had done this before and yanked back. When he had enough leverage, Lance raised his dominant leg and hooked it over the metal rope, stomping down. The extra pull on the chain caused Haxus to lose his balance and he stumbled onto the floor. Lance took the opportunity and raised his leg once more, performing an axe kick and squashing Haxus’ skull beneath his heel.

The burst of pained screeching stirred something inside Lance; it was satisfying. It was bringing back old memories. Before Lance could continue his attack, the prong collar squeezed threateningly around his throat. The masseur panicked and raised both his hands to slip his fingers between the spikes and his skin. He gagged and gasped, feeling his body rise until he was balancing on the balls of his feet. The struggling caused his body to rock back and forth, and out of the corner of his eye he saw another person pressing the button to raise the lifting hook. He was the largest man Lance had ever seen with a ridiculously large jaw and an even smaller forehead. Another Galra.

“Pathetic. I can’t believe you were losing to this scrawny dog! He’s practically in a straight-jacket!” The man at the other end of the room released the button and approached Haxus.

“Myzax,” The beaten Galra growled weakly from his position on the floor, “As if you could do better!”

The second Galra, Myzax snorted and answered, “Actually, I can do better. See, Sendak just called a few more guys to come in. The long term plan is to get this fighter into shape, but you two aren’t thinking about now…” Myzax reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, narrow black box. He wiggled the thing between his fingers like it was a special treat, “We need The Blue Lion to lose...tonight. And what better way than this!”

The black box was shoved against Lance’s exposed skin and a shock wave wracked his entire body. It was a taser. His fingers seized and twitched, automatically curling around the metal collar. His legs shook violently and Lance was sure that he had bitten his tongue; he could taste blood sliding into the back of his throat.

For how long the shock waves continued to torment him, he didn’t know. But at some point, his arms had been bound apart from his body to stop him from grasping his collar. In between each burst, Lance glanced around the room dazed and worn, realizing that he now had an audience. Sendak and Haxus had taken up residence near the walls while several other Galra members were standing by. The sick bastards were taking turns shocking him. He screamed with each pulse.

The sound of a hand clap barely registered over the ringing in Lance’s ears; it was Sendak, “Wrap this up, the first fight starts in ten minutes.”

One last shock and everyone filtered out of the room with the exception of Sendak, Haxus, and Myzax. For the next ten minutes, Lance was involuntarily shaking. His muscles burned from the onslaught of blows and he was sure that patches of his skin had burned from the taser. He was breathing hard and despite wanting to collapse, he kept standing for fear of puncturing his throat. There was only one thought running through his head as he silently cried: make it stop.

Gears whirled above him and the pressure on his throat dissolve. Exhausted and defeated, Lance collapsed against the concrete floor. He gave up fighting back, too tired to stop Myzax and Haxus from dragging his limp body across the floor. The sockets in his shoulders screamed and his ribs felt bruised, but nothing was worse than the constant twitching in his fingers; he was sure they would fall off.

As the men approached their destination, Lance could hear cheering. The concrete broke away and Lance could feel himself being dragged across rubble. Rocks grinded against his spine and he could feel dirt flick into his clothing. The underground fight must have been a last minute arrangement, otherwise the arena itself would have been a padded floor. The sea of bodies had formed a makeshift ring, all of them shouting and rocking together. Lance was tossed into the middle of it all and watched lifelessly as Sendak removed his shackles and collar.

Sendak cupped Lance’s cheek and said affectionately, “Make it a good show, huh? Don’t forget: you need to lose.”

The Galra faded into the crowd and let the fight take its course. Another man emerged from the crowd, dressed in loose MMA shorts and his hands bound safely behind heavy tape. At first, Lance thought nothing of it but began to recognize the distinguishing features: sharp jawline, beady eyes, and injuries from a previous fight…

“Hepta…” Lance breathed out, shocked and nearly speechless, “But you fought against Keith and lost. Why are you here?”

The man pounded his fists together and stretched his limbs while answering, “If you think I’m here against my will, then you have the wrong idea. See, I’ve been working with the Galra for a long time and they had money on my fight—just like this one.”

Lance voice broke at his realization, “You threw the match...you lost for the money.”

“Not just for any old money. They’re non-sequential bills and that means no matter how dirty the deal is, authorities can’t trace the crime back to me. Now that’s real cash.” Hepta whipped out his arms and locked them into a stance, “Now, how about we get started!”

The MMA Fighter charged and for a moment, Lance didn’t know how to react. He was too occupied with his thoughts: the Galra had infiltrated legal MMA tournaments, but just how deep did it go? The ex-fighter’s thoughts meant nothing as Hepta came straight towards him, laying three punches to his face and knocking him to the floor. Pain flared all the way up to the center of his forehead: his nose was broken.

“This will be a lot easier than I thought it would be!” Hepta laughed.

Underground Fights were illegal for a reason and if Lance was forced into one, then he was going to fight very dirty. Hepta mounted his body, ready to lay another barrage of attacks, but Lance was faster. The ex-fighter dug his fingers into the floor, picking up a handful of dirt to smudge straight into his opponents eyes. Hepta wailed and Lance took the opportunity to break out from the man’s hold. He hooked his foot around his opponent’s leg before thrusting his hips up, making them both tumble sideways.

With Lance now on top, he took his chance and punched every surface he could get his fists on. Eyes, nose, jaw, ears, throat, collar bones, diaphragm, he pistoned his arms tirelessly until the resistance beneath him faded. He kept going repeatedly mumbling to himself the same word he used all those years ago…

“Survive...survive...survive…” Lance said that one word under his breath as he connected each punch.

What he didn’t know was that the crowd had parted in a scramble. He was too focused on the body beneath him until arms wrapped around his body and pulled him off an unconscious Hepta. Lance cried out, kicking and screaming, trying to get away from the person who had torn him off his prey. The large arms wrapped tighter around his body, effectively trapping his arms. Soon, the stranger locking him in had crashed up against a cement wall, sliding down and taking Lance with him. He could hear words being directed at him but all he could hear was the racing pulse of his heart.

“Lance, stop! We’re here! We’re all here!”

But he didn’t hear the voices. All he could see was Hepta’s limp body covered in dirt. Just below his view of Hepta’s body was his bare hands, knuckles covered in blood and bruises. Was he dead? Did he kill him? What was happening? There were no more people, just flashing lights going across every surface of the room. They were going to take him. He didn’t lose like they wanted him to. They were going to punish him. They were going to—

“It’s okay, Lance.” He knew that voice, the same one he had woken up to, “We’re all here now. We found you. Everything will be fine.”

The thrashing died down until Lance was only holding the arms around him, gripping them desperately. A hand came up to turn his head until his cheeks were pressed up against a familiar face.

“Keith…” Lance sobbed his name, still shaking from his torture, “I killed him...I think I killed him...”

The man behind him hugged Lance tighter, kissing his temple and answering softly, “No you didn’t. I swear, you didn’t kill him.”

“I survived...right?” Lance hiccupped and asked again, “Am I alive?”

Behind him, Keith released a hand and used it to cover Lance’s eyes, shielding him from the harsh reality: the world was truly a cavalcade of violence.

Heart in his throat and still shaken, Keith answered softly, “You’re alive, Lance. I’ve got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are nearing the end of Clinched...  
> With everything that Keith ad Lance has gone through, what will happen next?  
> Recovery? Returning to life on the run? Or perhaps...something else entirely...  
> Stay tuned in for the final chapter of Clinched!


End file.
